Back On Track
by Twinsfan725
Summary: Post-series 7. After the events of episode 8, Martin and Louisa are determined to give their marriage one last try. Martin knows he must change in order for them to stay together, but can he do it?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! This is my first Doc Martin story! I'm a big fan of the series here in the U.S. and have been picking up some of the English terminology from the show and other Fanfiction writers to keep with the style and format. I've read many Doc Martin stories and they are all so wonderful that I wanted to be apart of it too.** I **noticed that there are some post-series 7 stories up, and I hope that I haven't written something similar to anyone else's. Anyway, I wrote this to be either a stand-alone short story or one that can be drawn out. Let me know if you think I should continue on or keep it as is. Enjoy!**

Back On Track

They arrived back at the surgery just as the sun was beginning to set below the horizon. Martin removed the key from the ignition and turned to face his wife. "Louisa, I'm sorry about missing our dinner plans," he said.

Louisa shook her head and looked over at him in understanding. "It's alright, Martin. I'm just glad you're okay." She reached over and took hold of one of his hands.

"Mm. No, I mean . . . I never explained myself back at the moor. I wanted to be there, with you . . . and James, but . . ." Martin paused and looked down at their entwined fingers. "I just don't think I'm cut out for marriage. Everything I do, or say, just seems to make it worse. And I don't know how to make it better between us, Louisa. I need your help, to change, to be the husband you want."

Louisa shook her head vehemently, her ponytail swishing back and forth. "I don't want you to change completely, Martin. I mean, well, there are things you can work on - improve, myself included, but I love the way you are. Remember the night where I got you drunk and you spontaneously declared your love for me?" He nodded and she continued, "And I told you that you were gruff, rude, and monosyllabic? Well, it doesn't matter to me because _now_ I know that underneath that gruff exterior there's a warm, caring, and sensitive man. The way you are with James Henry and me, that's the man that I love."

Martin inhaled a long breath of air before averting his eyes from Louisa's. "So you don't find my rudeness off putting?"

"Well, maybe sometimes, but I know you're just being honest. I know how much you care about the health of the villagers and that's why you get irritated with them."

"If only they'd listen to me and follow my instructions I wouldn't have to be so rude!"

They fell silent until Louisa let out a long yawn. "Um, I should be going. You're probably tired," Martin said.

"Yes, I didn't really sleep at all last night. I was too worried about you."

"Mm, me too. I mean, the situation, being held hostage. I kept thinking of you and James."

"Really?" Louisa was always touched and astonished by the tender words and thoughts her husband so rarely shared with her. It was one of the things she hoped he could improve on. But he couldn't read her mind. And communication seemed to be the biggest struggle between them. Maybe helping him understand her wants and needs was what _she_ needed to work on?

"Yes. I thought that you'd be angry that I didn't show up as planned, and that I'd lose you because of it." Martin turned to fully face Louisa and gripped her hand more tightly. "I feared that I wouldn't see you or James again. The two of you mean everything to me." Martin paused to clear his throat as he struggled to voice his next thoughts. "That day at the hospital, when I came to take you home after your accident, and you said you were going to Spain with James, it broke my heart, Louisa. I couldn't . . ." Martin finally had enough as he could feel his eyes begin to water. Feeling embarrassed he looked away from her and stared out the window of the Lexus.

Louisa had tears in her eyes as well. Never had she witnessed Martin open up with her so emotionally. She began to feel guilty at his declaration. Was she responsible for her husband's recent bout of sadness? "Martin, I'm so sorry. I just thought at the time it was the right thing for me to do. I wasn't happy, neither of us seemed to be happy. It was the only thing I could think of to keep us from driving each other bodmin."

Martin continued to stare out the car window until he felt a warm hand caress the back of his neck. "Um, can I come in and say goodnight to James?" he asked hoarsely, changing the subject.

"Of course." They both felt some relief as they exited the car. It was an exhausting conversation but one that needed to happen in order for them to move forward.

Janice was occupying James with a stuffed animal as he sat in his playpen when Martin and Louisa walked in. Louisa thanked her for looking after him longer than usual. "Were you a good boy for Janice today, James?" Louisa happily asked her son while she picked him up off the floor. The boy gave his mother a giggle as he settled into her arms.

Martin was standing off to the side watching. Louisa turned and faced him. "Maybe you could stay and give James his bath? Keep up the usual nighttime routine?"

"Mm, yes." Martin stepped forward and took James from Louisa. He stood still for a minute just holding his son, in awe that he had a part in creating him. Never did he imagine that he would leave his passion for surgery to become a GP in a quaint Cornish village and later, a husband and father. He looked over at Louisa, who gave him a smile, before heading upstairs.

After dressing a bathed and sanitary James in his pyjamas, Martin carefully laid the boy down onto his cot. He brushed the backs of two fingers over his son's cheek and briefly counted out the pulse he felt at his neck. Leaning over the rail of the cot, Martin watched as James gave him a toothy smile and flung out a fist. Martin took hold of the boy's small hand and realised how fast he'd been growing. Soon, he thought, James will be walking and talking. He couldn't believe that twelve months ago, on the day he was scheduled to move back to London, this beautiful boy of his came into the world. And he had Louisa to thank for that.

He loved Louisa with everything he had in him, but found it difficult to express it. What came so naturally to her, felt alien to him. He knew being more emotional was something he needed to work on, he just didn't know how. He grew up without the love and affection he deserved, and when Louisa finally gave it to him, he had no idea how to cope with it.

"Is he asleep?"

Martin jumped at the sound of her voice and put a hand to his chest. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't hear her come up behind him. He looked down at James and realised he was fast asleep. "Yes. Mm," he grunted.

"Martin . . ." Louisa looked down at her hands as they nervously played with the hem of her cardigan. "Did you mean it when you said you didn't want to continue living in that flat?"

"Yes, I did."

"Um, I've been thinking . . . Well, I was going to bring it up over dinner yesterday, but . . ." She trailed off then looked up into his eyes. "I want you to move back in . . . into the surgery - here, with me and James."

Martin's eyes grew wide at her proposition."Are you sure? I mean, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or, um, I don't want to make things worse."

"Yes, Martin, I'm sure. I think it's time we really start committing ourselves to our marriage - to each other. And we can't do that if we're living separately."

Martin ducked his head. "I see."

Louisa rolled her eyes at her husband's way with words. "So . . .? Will you move back in?"

"Yes, uhm, yes, I will move back in."

Louisa smiled at him then stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head against his shoulder. "Good."

Hesitating briefly, Martin reciprocated her gesture, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and leaning his head down to rest against her's. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her. His wife - the woman he loved more than anything - was giving him - them - another chance to get their relationship back on track.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the kind reviews and encouragement! I'm glad to be apart of the Doc Martin fanfic community! Obviously I have decided to continue on exploring Martin and Louisa's relationship. So, we'll be picking up right where we left off in chapter one. The rating might change as we go along but probably won't go higher that 'T'. I am hopeful that I can update regularly since next week I will be on holiday break from school so I'll have plenty of time to work through this over the next month. I hope you like it!**

Chapter Two

"Will you stay the night?" Louisa asked as she released her hold on Martin.

"Um, I don't know. I mean, I don't have any clean pyjamas to change into."

"Can't you just sleep in your underclothes?" She gave him a playful smile.

"Uh, best not." Martin watched her smile fade and quickly tried to explain himself. "I've been wearing the same suit for almost two days, Louisa. Not to mention the number of bacteria and pathogens I picked up from that filthy farmhouse and that horrid dog that attacked me."

"What? You were attacked? Where?"

"Oh, um, my arm. It's nothing. The bite didn't break the skin." He pushed up the sleeve of his suit and held out his arm, revealing a mouthful of reddening canine punctures dotting the skin of his forearm. Louisa gingerly inspected it as best she could. "There'll most likely be some bruising tomorrow, nothing serious," he assured her.

Louisa frowned and smoothed her fingers over the afflicted area. "I know, but still, it must have hurt."

Martin let out a quiet grunt and pulled his arm away. "I think it would be better if I cleaned myself up back at the flat. I don't want to expose you or James to anything harmful."

Louisa let out a tired sigh. "If that's what you want. But I'm letting you know that I really do want you to stay."

"I know. I'd like to. If I wasn't covered in dirt and god knows what else . . ."

"I understand, Martin. You're just looking out for our health, and I appreciate that."

Martin ducked his head and tugged on his ear. "If you'd like I can come over tomorrow before the surgery opens and we can discuss our living arrangements."

"Yes, Martin, I'd like that."

Martin gave her a half smile, relieved that she didn't rebuke his offer. "Um, I'll say goodnight, then?"

Louisa smiled at him in return. "Goodnight, Martin."

Martin stepped closer to Louisa and bent down to kiss her cheek. "Yes, goodnight."

Louisa stared at him in disbelief as he turned to say goodnight to James, completely caught off guard by his sweet gesture. After all, he did initiate their kiss after they watched the helicopter take off back at that field. She smiled to herself. He was finally starting to learn that there was nothing wrong with showing a little affection towards someone you love.

"I'll walk you out?" Louisa suggested as he turned to leave the nursery.

"Yes."

They reached the front door of the surgery and Martin opened it before facing Louisa. "Um, thank you, Louisa, for giving me another chance to make things work between us. I know you weren't too keen with the couples therapy, I wasn't really either and -"

Louisa silenced him with a gentle kiss. "You're welcome, Martin. And like I said before, going through therapy, it's the start of a new beginning . . . for us."

Martin looked down at his shoes as his chest began to swell with something he'd rarely felt since the beginning of their relationship. Glancing back up to meet her hopeful eyes, "Yes, it is."

"See you tomorrow morning, then? Bright and early as usual?"

"Mm." He turned to leave but Louisa stopped him.

"Martin?" He faced her once more and she hesitated. "I love you." He didn't answer her back right away and she feared that this was a repeat of the day where they had rescued James from Mrs Tishell at the Castle and he wouldn't say those three little words a third time just for her. But, as was becoming more frequent of late, he surprised her.

"I, um . . . I love you, too," he said before quickly clearing his throat and turning away.

Louisa stepped out and stood on the slate steps, watching as he made his quick trek down the steep hill. Things were going to get better, she just knew it. He wouldn't let her down, not when it came to them.

. . .

"So, James, what'll it be this morning, hmm?" Louisa asked her little boy as she looked around the kitchen. James was seated in his high chair, eagerly waiting for his breakfast as he repeatedly slapped his hands down on the plastic tray in front of him.

"Fruit and some oatmeal?"

James let out a string of incoherent syllables and gurgles. Louisa smiled at him and began unpeeling a banana.

Louisa was in the middle of feeding James when she saw Martin stop and knock on the window above the sink. She gave him a smile and he entered the kitchen a moment later.

James turned in his seat to see who entered and his eyes lit up as he noticed it was his father. He let out a squeal and almost sent his bowl of oatmeal flying towards Louisa.

"Someone's excited to see Daddy. Can you say good morning to Daddy, James?" James didn't respond and instead reached back for his breakfast. Louisa let out a quiet sigh as she wiped her boy's face with a hand towel.

"What is it?" Martin asked her as he set down his medical bag and took a seat next to James. "Morning, James." He completed his usual greeting by brushing his fingers over the boy's head and cheek.

"Oh, I'm probably just being irrational. But he's so close to saying his first words. I mean he's a little over a year old, shouldn't he be more vocal by now?"

"I'm a doctor, Louisa, not a child psychologist. What do your American child development books say?"

"Oh, Martin!" she huffed. "There's nothing wrong with America or their opinions on child development."

"I know. I wasn't criticising. I was merely inquiring that you should -"

"Yes, thank you, Martin," Louisa interrupted him then noticed how he shied away from her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted you. I'm just being irrational - emotional."

"Could be you're -"

"Martin! Stop it! I don't need you giving me a medical lecture."

Martin remembered from past experience and decided it was best to stop talking. He turned his full attention to his son, who decided to start feeding himself. His hands and face were now covered in oatmeal and mashed banana.

Louisa continued to scramble around the kitchen, making more of a mess than tidying up. Martin followed her movements with a cautious eye. With Louisa he was never quite sure if her irritation and moodiness was because of him or from some other underlying factor.

James finished off his breakfast and Martin wiped his face clean one last time before facing off with Louisa. Looking down at his watch he said, "Louisa, the surgery opens in half an hour. We should really start discussing our permanent accommodations before patients start coming in."

Louisa stopped her scrambling about and sat down across from Martin at the table. "Yes, I'm sorry, Martin. I just have a lot on my mind. There's so much to do at the school with all the time I missed recently."

"I see."

"I'm glad you do." It came out a little sharper than she intended but Martin didn't seem fazed by it.

Martin let out a breath and began, "I was thinking that this afternoon over lunch I'll have Morwenna make sure to reschedule any patients during that time. That way I can start packing and moving my things back into the surgery."

"Maybe I can help you . . . if you want."

"Yes . . . Good. I mean, I'd like that."

"Good." Louisa internally flinched. She hated their one-word, one-sentence conversations. She knew he wasn't an adept conversationalist, but she had hoped their brief time in therapy would have helped him open up a bit more, at least with her. Patience, she told herself. It was going to take a lot of hard work and patience to get their relationship to where they both wanted it.

"Will you be free from the school at lunch?" Martin asked her. "I know you said you had a lot to do."

"I'm sure I can escape for a little while and help my husband move back into his proper home."

Martin took that as her deciding factor and ducked his head in acknowledgment. "Right. Good. I um, I should get ready before my first patient arrives." He held onto James' hand for a moment before standing and retrieving his medical bag.

"Yes. Janice should be here in a few minutes." She turned to look at James who was fascinated by his fingers. "Can you tell Daddy to have a good day, James?" Again, the boy had no interest in talking and continued to play with his fingers.

"Louisa!" Martin said with a bit of irritation as he turned towards the hallway under the stairs. "James will speak when he's ready to, don't push him."

Louisa rolled her eyes but smiled. At least he was listening to her more. "Mmhm, yep, thank you, Martin."

"Honestly," he mumbled under his breath as he neared the consulting room.

"Mornin,' Doc," Morwenna announced in that chipper voice of hers. Martin was startled and he put a hand to his chest to calm his breathing. "Glad you're all back in one piece, eh? Heard that Penhale had to help with the rescue."

Martin shook his head. "Uh, not really. The man's entirely incompetent. Put us all in more danger actually."

Morwenna shrugged. "Yeah, but he enjoys being a police officer, incompetent or otherwise."

"Mm. Do you have the first patient's notes?"

"Right here." She handed over the sleeve of notes and remained unmoving in front of him.

"Is there something else?"

Morwenna shook her head. "No. Just glad you're back, Doc. Anything new happen with you and Louisa?" she asked eagerly.

"What? That's none of your business. Now get back to work." He waved a hand towards the reception area and he waited until she made it back to her desk before entering the consulting room. Honestly, he thought as he sat down behind his desk to start his day. What is it with these villagers and their incessant need to gossip?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Be sure to complete the entire course of antibiotics, and if it doesn't clear up in a couple of weeks come back and see me," Martin told his patient as he signed and handed over a prescription.

"But, Doc," the fisherman whinged, "I can't take any time off work. I have ta make a livin' you know."

"I don't care. Stay at home and rest. Your infection could possibly be passed on through the handling of seafood. Would you rather stay at home or infect the entire village?"

The fisherman let out a defeated sigh. "Alright, Doc. Thanks." He held up his prescription then left the consulting room.

"Morwenna!" Martin shouted as he began tidying his desk.

"Yeah, Doc?" the young girl inquired as she appeared in the doorway of the consulting room.

"I need you to reschedule any patients between noon and one."

"Why? Going somewhere? Taking Louisa out for a romantic lunch? 'Cause I know this really great place it's -"

"Shush! No! Just do it, Morwenna!"

"Ok. A 'please, Morwenna,' would have been nice," she muttered.

Martin looked up at her and frowned. After Morwenna left, he checked his watch and placed his mobile in his pocket, then picked up the stack of patient notes and headed out to the reception area.

"File these. I'll be out for a little while," Martin instructed as he set down the stack of notes on her desk.

"Will do, Doc." She gave him a big smile and Martin just scowled.

Stepping outside the surgery, Martin pulled out his mobile and sent a message to Louisa saying he was on his way to the school. Ducking inside his Lexus and starting the ignition, he made his way through the village.

He parked the car near the school and waited for Louisa. He heard the chime from his mobile and pulled it out, reading her response. A few minutes later she appeared near the gate and Martin stepped out of the car to greet her.

"Hi, Martin," she said as she strolled up to his side.

"Mm, hello."

Louisa linked her arm with Martin's as they walked to his flat.

"Oh, hello, Doc, Louiser," Bert said as he shuffled passed them down the street. "Out for an afternoon walk, eh, Doc?"

"No," was Martin's curt response. Louisa waved at Bert and gave him an apologetic look.

"Why do you do that?" Louisa asked once Bert was out of earshot.

"Do what?" Martin looked over at her, perplexed.

"Ignore people as they stop and greet you."

"I didn't ignore him."

"You could have at least said hello."

"But then he would have started rambling on about nothing."

Louisa sighed. "Yes, it's called being polite, Martin."

"I see."

"You were never like that with me." Louisa smiled to herself as she began to reminisce.

"What do you mean?"

"Dismissive. Before we married you'd always stop and greet me."

Martin remained quiet.

"I quite liked that about you." Louisa gave her husband a sideways glance. "You always had a gentle look about you whenever we ran into each other."

"Well - that's because . . ." Martin cleared his throat. He was growing a little uncomfortable talking about their relationship. But he needed to show her that he cared. And he remembered that she wanted him to open up a bit more as well. "Well, I thought you were very beautiful. And I liked seeing your smile whenever you saw me."

Louisa smiled and tightened her grip on his arm. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Martin."

"Mm, yes. You're welcome."

When they arrived, Martin unlocked the door to his flat, taking a backwards glance at the one across the narrow walkway to where the art teacher and her daughter lived. At least that girl finally stopped playing her violin, he thought.

"Um, I'll start in the loft?" Martin suggested as they stood in the cramped one-room kitchen/dining/living area.

"Sure." Louisa looked around. Still as neat and tidy as ever, she thought. Save for the pots on the hob, one would never know if anyone lived there. "Martin, do you have any boxes?"

"In the cupboard by the front door, I think," he said from the upper level.

Together, they started packing up Martin's things. He handled his clothes and toiletries while Louisa took care of his kitchen accessories. It didn't take long, since Martin wasn't one to collect or own unnecessary belongings.

"Um, can I buy you lunch?" Martin asked as he placed his suitcase of clothes down near the boxes.

Louisa was looking at the family picture she gave him when he had decided to move out of the surgery. "Hmm?" She looked up at him and almost laughed. His tall stature frequently caused him to hunch over in most of the buildings in Portwenn. He was staring at her, head bent to avoid the wooden rafters, waiting for a response. "Is there still time?"

Martin looked at his watch. "If we leave now."

Louisa handed him the framed picture before slipping on her coat. "You know I didn't think you'd actually put it out on display." She gestured towards the picture.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, um . . . I don't know. You really didn't have any personal photos displayed at the surgery so . . ."

"Right." Martin looked down at the framed picture. Their little family, as Louisa liked to call it. His family. "But now I have a family worth displaying pictures of."

Louisa moved closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Yes, you do. A family who loves you, Martin."

"Mm." Martin tucked the photo gingerly into a box. "Shall we go? I can move all this into the surgery myself after my last patient."

"Okay." They both moved towards the door at the same time and bumped into each other. "Oops, sorry!" Louisa cried as she accidentally stepped on his foot.

"Mm, it's alright." Martin intended to step out of the way but found he couldn't. They were as close as they could be in that cramped little flat, with chests almost touching, that he felt himself beginning to unwind at her closeness. Throughout their separation he always held himself rigid, keeping his body tense, never quite sure if every encounter between them would turn into a disagreement. But now, as he looked down at her, he started to feel the tension unwind a bit. "Louisa . . ."

"Yes, Martin?"

"I just wanted to say that - that you look very beautiful today." She was wearing one of the dresses he loved most; the white one with the flower pattern and bow around the waist. The one she wore when they went to rescue James from Mrs Tishell and he told her he loved her.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "I love it when you say things like that."

"I'll try to say them more often."

Louisa leaned up and kissed his mouth. "And I'll try to be more patient with you."

"Yes." They exited his flat and made their way back to the heart of Portwenn. "I thought we could stop at that café by the pub."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know you're picky about kitchen hygiene and all that."

"Yes. But I'm willing to make an exception for you."

Louisa smiled from ear to ear. "Martin Ellingham! What have you done with my grumpy and finicky husband?!"

Martin shook his head, feeling confused. "What? I'm sorry I don't know what that means."

"It means, I'm glad you're willing to step out of your comfort zone for once."

"Yes. I meant what I said during your operation. You were a bit fuzzy so I'm not sure if you remember. But I want to learn to be a better husband, Louisa."

"And so far, despite our little roadblock, you are learning, Martin. Today proved that we're moving in the right direction."

"Good." While Louisa waved to one of the shopkeepers, Martin smiled as he watched her. He still couldn't believe how a beautiful, outgoing woman like her could love someone like him. At times he still felt like he didn't deserve her, but he also knew that he'd be lost without her.

They neared the pharmacy and Martin felt his heart rate pick up. Now that he was aware of Mrs Tishell's obsession with him, even though she claimed to remain committed to her husband, Martin always grew nervous and annoyed around her. So, like on their disastrous first date at the concert, Martin hesitantly took hold of Louisa's hand.

Louisa began chewing her lip as the pharmacy came into view. She wasn't ready for one of Mrs Tishell's amorous advances, but then she felt Martin's hand tentatively touch her fingers. She sensed Martin was feeling just as uneasy as her, so she gripped his hand firmly in hers and together they walked by the pharmacy hand in hand.

. . .

"Out! Go away! You horrible dog!"

Hearing Martin's angry voice, Louisa looked up as she was cleaning the kitchen table. "Oh, dear," she whispered.

Martin stumbled through the kitchen, a box in each arm, trying to fend off the little white terrier that refused to leave him alone. Louisa stopped and rushed over to help him.

"Here, let me." She grabbed a box while Martin closed the door, effectively keeping the canine outside. "Is this the last of it?"

"Yes. God, I hate dogs." He leaned down and brushed his pant legs free of dog hair.

"That's too bad."

"No it's isn't. They smell, they're dirty, and they have the potential to carry disease."

"I know, but, I just thought as James grows older he might ask for a dog someday." Louisa smiled as she resumed wiping down the table. "I can only imagine how that conversation will roll over."

"It'll be an emphatic 'No!'" Martin said as he placed the last box down on a chair. "Where is James, by the way?"

"Upstairs - asleep. He was tired. You can probably wake him for supper."

"Right." Martin watched her for a moment as she started pulling out pots and pans. "Can I help with anything?"

Louisa turned around. "Um, you can start washing the vegetables and get them steaming if you want."

"Okay. I'll just get James first, then."

A few minutes later Martin retuned with James and placed him in his high chair. His little boy was getting bigger and bigger everyday it seemed. Pretty soon he'd outgrow the high chair, Martin thought as James wriggled and squirmed trying to get free. Martin gave the boy one of his toys to keep him occupied.

As they ate, Martin alternated feeding James. He was growing more picky and refused to open his mouth. "C'mon, James," Martin encouraged, keeping the spoon poised by the boy's mouth.

"I think he prefers feeding himself," Louisa suggested. "Here you go, James." Louisa placed some cut up pieces of string beans on his tray and James' face lit up as he reached for them.

Martin picked up his plate and turned to the sink. "Mm, I'll start cleaning up then."

Later, Martin was in their bedroom tidying away his belongings when Louisa entered. "I can stay here, right?" he asked her.

"Of course. Now come here and sit with me." She patted his side of the bed and he obliged. He sat upright against the headboard and Louisa nestled up by his side. "I've missed having you here, you know?" She leaned her head down to rest on his shoulder.

"Mm. I've missed you, too." He looked down at her and reached over to push her dark hair behind her ear. "Louisa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we can ever be happy together?"

She remained quiet for a few breaths and Martin feared she would say no. But then she took hold of his hand and looked into his eyes. "Yes. These past few months without you here were so lonely, Martin. Without you, James and I aren't a complete family. We'll have our struggles like everybody else, but I think the worst is over. You do make me happy, Martin. More than I think you realise. And I want you to understand that. I love you, Martin. That'll never change."

Martin could feel his eyes start to water and looked away for a moment. He felt so relieved by her heartfelt words. Letting out a breath of air he replied, "Thank you, Louisa. And you make me happy as well. Being away from you and James every night was painful. I don't think I can go through that again."

Louisa squeezed his hand. "You won't have to. I'm not going anywhere."

Leaning down, Martin closed his eyes and kissed her slowly. Louisa wrapped an arm around his stomach as their kiss deepened. Pulling away, Martin touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I love you, Louisa. I really do. I know I don't say it enough . . ."

"I know you do, Martin. I see it in your eyes and feel it in your touch, like this afternoon when we walked through the village. That's all I need. That's what makes me happy."

Martin closed his eyes and once again felt he didn't deserve her. He didn't think he ever would, but they were together again and that's all that mattered.

"Now, how about I give my husband a proper welcome home?" Louisa said as she unbuttoned the first few buttons of Martin's pyjama top.

"Um, Louisa, I don't know. I think . . ."

"Martin, shush! Don't spoil it. It's been too long since we've been like this." She caressed the revealed skin of his chest and kissed his neck, just below his ear, then moved to sit astride his thighs.

"Oh, Louisa . . ." he mumbled as he could feel his body start to respond while he watched her push her dressing gown off her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. And just like in his dream all those years ago, only this time she was actually there, he felt himself fall under his wife's spell. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she was his for the rest of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers! I'm terribly sorry for the long delay. I've been mulling over ideas of where to go with this story and finally found some headway. Again, thank you so much for all the kind reviews, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this next part as much as I do!**

Chapter Four

The next morning Louisa was awakened by the incessant chirp of the alarm clock. She silenced the alarm and turned on her side to wrap her arms around her husband, only to find that he wasn't there. The sheets were neatly pulled to the head of the bed with his pillow straightened on top. Louisa let out a sigh and reached over the edge of the bed for her dressing gown, which was discarded during their long-overdue night of lovemaking.

She padded over to the nursery to check on James and noticed his empty cot. She smiled as she pictured Martin in the kitchen reading to James from one of his medical journals as the two ate breakfast together. She quietly headed back to their bedroom to get ready for her day.

". . . So what do you think, James? Will your mother enjoy it?" Martin asked his son while he sliced a banana. James responded by excitedly smacking his hands down on the tray of his high chair. "Mm, I assume that means 'yes?'"

"What means 'yes?'" Louisa asked as she made her presence known.

Martin looked up from the cutting board as Louisa stepped up into the kitchen. Feeling caught unawares, he ducked his head and said, "Um, nothing. Just talking to James."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. With Martin it was very difficult to tell if he was lying or not because he was always so honest, usually in a blunt way unfortunately. Nevertheless, Louisa could sense he was hiding something. "Hmm. What about?" She leaned down and covered her little boy's cheeks with kisses and he squirmed and giggled in response.

"Like I said, Louisa, nothing. I was just speaking out loud."

"I see." She moved over to his side and covered his hand with her own. "I missed waking up with you this morning," she whispered in his ear.

Martin could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at his wife's closeness. He tugged at his ear and explained, "I was up early anyway. I didn't sleep much . . . Um, because - we, um . . . last night. Mm." Martin cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the knot of his tie growing tighter around his neck. "And I didn't want to wake you so I thought James and I could handle things down here."

She smiled up at him. "Well, it certainly looks like the two of you have everything under control."

"Yes. Can I make you anything special for breakfast?"

"Eggs . . . and tea, would be nice. Thank you, Martin." Louisa leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Martin stared back at her in adoration. "Yes. You're welcome."

Louisa gave him a loving look before sitting down and feeding James his slices of banana.

"Um, Louisa?" Martin asked a few moments later as he set down a plate with her boiled egg and toast.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering what your plans were for this weekend?"

Louisa peeled off the top of her egg and looked up at him surprised. "Oh. I'm not sure; just planned on hanging around here with my two men. Why?" She smiled and tickled James' cheek.

Martin busied himself with folding a dish towel. "Right. I thought we could go to Newquay for a day. They have a zoo that I thought James might enjoy . . . and plenty of beaches. We could try having a picnic again. That is, if you want to."

"Martin," Louisa shook her head, impressed that he'd thought and planned out a day where they could be together as a family. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Is that what you were talking to James about?"

"Mm, yes. And I think he agrees with me." Martin looked over at James, who was smiling and babbling incoherently.

"Oh, he'll love it, won't you, James?" Louisa abandoned her breakfast and picked up her little boy, whispering to him all the animals they were going to see.

"I thought we could leave early Saturday morning?"

Louisa adjusted James on her hip. "Yes, that would be good." She continued to smile at him and Martin, feeling a little uncomfortable under her intense gaze, turned away to begin the washing up. Louisa stepped up behind him and wrapped an arm around his middle. "Thank you, Martin, for planning this."

Martin turned to face her. "Yes, well . . . I wanted to do something special for you - and James, so . . ."

"Who knows? Maybe you'll actually enjoy yourself."

"Mm."

Louisa kissed his cheek. "I should get James cleaned up before Janice gets here." She turned towards the stairs but he stopped her.

"Louisa?"

"Yes, Martin?"

He took off his apron and moved closer to her. "I wanted to say, um, have a good day . . . and . . . I'll miss you."

Louisa melted at his words. She rushed over and wrapped her free arm around him. "Oh, Martin."

"What? Did I say something wrong?" He was perplexed as to why she was being so emotional.

"No." Louisa stepped back when James began to whimper. "It's just - I'm not used to hearing you say things like that."

"Oh. Right." He paused then looked into her eyes. "I do mean it, when I say I'll miss you. Whenever I have the chance, I step outside and gaze over the harbour at the school, knowing you're there, wishing I could see you."

"Martin, stop, you're going to make me cry." Louisa wiped at her watering eyes.

Martin shook his head. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright. I'm glad you told me, thank you."

"Mm, you're welcome. I should . . . My first patient will be here soon."

"Yes." Louisa leaned up and kissed him, letting it linger. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes." Martin watched her as she moved through the lounge towards the stairs with James. His lips curved into a smile as he thought about how lucky he was to have her - and James. And for the first time since he was maybe six years old, Martin was looking forward to spending an entire day with his family.

The rest of the week seemed to drag on for Martin. When Friday night rolled around he was still making last minute preparations for their day in Newquay.

"Mar-tin?" Louisa huffed, annoyed that her husband wouldn't just come to bed already.

Martin turned around at her irritated voice. "What?"

"We're going for the _day,_ not an entire week."

Martin continued rifling through his wardrobe. "Yes, I know." His patience with Louisa was growing thin so he let out a breath of air to calm himself. "I just want to be prepared. There's a chance of rain tomorrow and traveling with a small child is not as easy as it sounds."

Louisa shook her head in defeat. "Ok. I suppose you have a point. But I'm forbidding you from wearing a tie tomorrow."

Martin whirled around to face her. "What?"

"You heard me," she said, using her best 'Head Mistress' tone.

"But - but, Louisa . . .?"

"Martin, you don't need to look professional for a day out with your family. You can wear a jacket but no tie. That's my final offer."

Martin opened his mouth for a retaliation but couldn't come up with one. Instead, he ducked his head and muttered, "Fine," then zipped his small travel bag shut.

"Good."

"I was only trying to save us some time tomorrow," Martin mumbled to himself as he turned off the light in the bathroom. "In the mornings you're all over the place . . ."

Louisa closed her book with a thump. "What are you saying, Martin? That I'm too chaotic in the morning?"

"No, just that you tend to be a bit forgetful in the morning, that's all."

"Oh, thanks."

"Louisa, I didn't mean it like that." Martin slipped into bed beside her and started adjusting his pillow.

"Then what did you mean?"

He let out a sigh as he settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

Louisa looked down at him with a furrowed brow. "Right. Goodnight, then." She turned on her side away from him.

"Yes. Goodnight." Martin reached over and turned off his bedside lamp.

. . .

As was typical of the Ellingham family, their trip to Newquay didn't get off to the best of starts. James Henry was rather fussy that morning and wouldn't cooperate with his mother. Martin was able to calm his son long enough for him to settle in his car seat. Unfortunately for Martin, the quiet didn't last long.

James, not used to riding in a car regularly, let out a long wail about ten minutes into their journey. "Oh, dear," Louisa said as she looked back at her unhappy son.

"Is he hungry?" Martin asked while trying to concentrate on the road.

Louisa stroked James' leg in an effort to calm him. "He shouldn't be. He ate some of his breakfast before we left." She leaned over and rifled through the nappy bag. She pulled out his purple dinosaur and James stuck out his hands for his favourite toy. "There," Louisa cooed as James finally began to settle down. "Works every time." She looked over at Martin. "And how are you?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" He quickly glanced at her before returning his attention to the road.

"We're not driving you bodmin yet, are we?"

Martin shook his head. "No. I'm fine."

"Good." Louisa gazed at him for a moment before looking back at James, who was chewing on the tail of his dinosaur, then out the window.

It started to rain as Martin turned on the A39 but began to let up once they passed through Wadebridge. At half past ten they finally arrived at Newquay and the sun was just peeking through the clouds.

"Martin? Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you took off your jacket?" Louisa asked as he was reassembling James' push chair.

He looked down at his navy sport coat then back up at her. "No. I opted out of a tie, isn't that good enough?"

"Ugh, Mar-tin! I'm just saying we'll be outside most of the day, won't you get too warm with your coat on?"

Martin let out a sigh and took off his jacket and neatly folded it before placing it in the Lexus. For good measure he even rolled up the sleeves of his powder blue dress shirt. "Happy?" he asked her as he took James and settled him into his push chair.

"Well you didn't _have_ to take it off. I was just making a suggestion."

"What? Now you're telling me I can leave it on? You're not making any sense, Louisa."

Louisa let out an impatient sigh. She hoped this would have been a redo of their picnic that was so inopportunely interrupted by an unstable Angela Simm. But any outing with Martin seemed to end in a disaster of some sort. "Just forget it, Martin. This was your idea. Let's just try and enjoy ourselves, shall we? For James, at least?"

"Yes."

James laughed and squealed in delight as Louisa pointed out the animals they saw at the zoo. Martin watched his son excitedly kick his legs and wave his hands when he saw a zebra for the first time. He half smiled at his wife and son's happiness, but couldn't help feel a bit saddened that he never had the chance to experience something like this when he was a little boy. Of course Martin enjoyed seeing the chickens, cows, and sheep at Uncle Phil and Auntie Joan's farm when he was a boy, but he never formed a bond with his mother the way Louisa did with their son. And he was thankful for that; thankful that James would grow up knowing he was loved by both his parents.

Soon enough Martin was actually enjoying himself. He even let James get a close look at some sheep that was part of a small petting zoo, except under no circumstances did he allow his son to touch them. "Farm animals are full of disease spreading pathogens, Louisa," he told his wife as he pulled James away from the fence. "At his age, his immune system isn't strong enough yet."

"Ok, whatever you say, Doctor." She gave him a playful smile and took hold of his hand. Martin grunted in response and intertwined their fingers.

After their adventure at the zoo, they stopped at one of the less crowded beaches and Martin laid out their picnic blanket.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Louisa said as she settled James down on the blanket.

"Still a bit crowded." Martin frowned as he looked at all the people suntanning on the beach. "No doubt increasing their chances of developing skin cancer."

"What's that?" Louisa opened the hamper they brought and started pulling out containers of food.

Martin shook his head and turned his attention back to his family. "Never mind. Did you put sun block on James?"

"Oh, ah, no I didn't. Could you do that while I get everything settled?"

"Yes." Martin began applying the sun block to James' face and arms. "Did you bring any healthy food?" he asked as he inspected each of the food containers.

Louisa raised her eyebrows at him. "As a matter of fact I did. Here, I prepared this just for you." She handed him a large container.

Martin opened it and nodded his head in approval. "Thank you."

"I thought it was best not to repeat our last attempt at a family picnic."

"Mm. I'm sorry about that. I know it was something you really wanted to be perfect."

Louisa handed James a bowl with some dry cereal. "It's in the past, Martin. And I'm learning that everything doesn't always have to be perfect. Because we're not perfect, are we? We learn from each other's mistakes. And although we do tend to bring out the worst in each other, we also bring out the best; that's what matters most." Louisa ran her fingers through her son's blonde hair as he stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth.

Martin gazed at her, feeling his chest swell with emotion. He looked over at James for a moment before returning his eyes to Louisa, her ponytail swishing in the slight breeze. "You're so beautiful, Louisa," he nearly whispered.

Louisa smiled. "Martin . . ."

He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I mean it. You're so beautiful." Leaning forward, wanting to kiss her -

"Help! Somebody help!" a voice called out.

Martin recoiled and looked to his right. A few hundred yards down the beach, some woman was waving her hands in the air while she screamed for help.

"Martin?"

"Wait here. Stay with James." Martin stood up and ran down the beach as best he could in his black dress shoes.

"Help! Please, somebody help!" the woman continued to shout.

"Alright, alright. I'm a doctor," Martin said as he approached the panicked woman. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's my Charlie!" She pointed to an unconscious, heavy-set man lying on his back in the sand. "One minute we was laughin', the next he just collapsed! He's stopped breathin', too! Please do something!"

Martin knelt down next to the man and leaned down to listen to his chest. "Um, call an ambulance. I suspect it could be a heart attack." When the woman failed to move Martin shouted at her, "Call for an ambulance! Now!"

The woman finally picked up her mobile phone. Martin pulled back both of the man's eyelids to check for pupil responses. It was difficult without his torch light but the sun's blaring rays provided enough stimulation. By now a small crowd had gathered around Martin and he scowled and tried waving them away. "Stay back! Go away!" He tilted the unconscious man's head back and started a series of chest compressions.

Louisa was holding James close to her chest as she watched her husband perform his medical magic a short distance away. A few minutes later, a team of paramedics arrived to take over and started the process of shocking the man's heart back to life. Martin stayed with the man until he was carried off on a gurney before returning to Louisa.

"Well done," she complimented.

"Mm. Just basic medical procedure. The paramedics were able to restart his heart. Should be fine once he's in hospital."

Louisa ran her fingers down the curve of his jawline. "You're such an extraordinary man, Martin."

Martin squinted in the sunlight and ducked his head. "Mm, yes." He cleared his throat and placed a hand on the small of Louisa's back and guided her and James back to their picnic blanket.

"Seems we can't have a picnic uninterrupted," Louisa replied as she sat back down with James on her lap.

"Hmm, yes, so it seems." Martin took hold of James' small hand. "Do you think James enjoyed himself today?"

Louisa looked down at their son, who climbed out of her lap and began crawling towards his father. "I think so. It may not be a memory he'll remember, but you and I will."

"Yes." Martin pulled James to him and reached out to take his wife's hand. "Thank you," he said as he gazed at her.

"For what?"

"For being with me."

"Martin . . ." Once again he left her speechless with his kind and heartfelt words. Not caring that they we were on a crowded and public beach, Louisa wrapped her hands behind his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him long and deeply. "Love you," she breathed out once they parted.

Martin let his forehead rest against Louisa's. "I love you too, Louisa."

The sound of an aeroplane passing overhead caused Martin to look up. He thought of a time years ago on a plane where he diagnosed a woman with acute glaucoma and just recently, saved her from an AVM brain hemorrhage.

Martin picked up his son and James tugged on his father's ears, giving him a lopsided grin. "I love you too, James Henry."

In response, James let out a shout that vaguely sounded like "Da!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Louisa caught James as he started to fall backwards from Martin's grasp. "Oh, James! You were going to say _Daddy_ , weren't you?" She picked him up and planted a big kiss on his cheek. She looked over at her husband. "Martin? Did you hear that? James' first words!"

Martin let out a grunt. "Don't be ridiculous, Louisa. That could have meant anything. Sounded like garbled nonsense to me."

Louisa frowned at him. "Mar-tin! Your only son just may have said his first words - directed at you, might I add - and all you can say is that it's _nonsense_?"

"Louisa, I didn't mean -"

"Then what? What did you mean?"

Her voice was growing angry and Martin was unsure what to do. He didn't realise what he said was offensive. He just spoke truthfully what came to mind. "I'm sorry, Louisa. I just - I guess it surprised me, is all." Martin leaned forward and took James' hand, softening his voice, "I'm sorry, James. Your first words are a momentous achievement and I ruined it. I _am_ proud of you; proud that you are my son."

Louisa's features softened at her husband's words. "Thank you, Martin, for saying that. And I shouldn't have gotten so cross with you, I apologise."

"Mm, it's alright. I know I'm difficult to understand, and I'm trying to talk to you more - open up about my . . . um, feelings and all that, but . . ."

Louisa placed a hand atop his. "I know. I appreciate that you're making the effort. _I'm_ still learning more about _you_. It'll take time for you to open up more, and I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. I won't make the mistake of leaving you again - I promise." She smiled at him and reached up to run her fingers over his cropped, greying hair, just above his ear.

Martin closed his eyes in a moment of contentment. What he felt deep inside was happiness, something he'd lacked almost his entire life. But with Louisa and James by his side, there was nothing he wanted more than for them to be happy. "Louisa, I wanted to say that-"

"Would you like a picture taken?" a tourist asked them.

Martin looked over at Louisa, horrified. "Um . . ."

Louisa gave the tourist a smile. "Um, sure! What do you think, Martin?" She handed over her mobile phone.

"Great!" the tourist exclaimed, stepping back a few feet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," he explained. "You three just looked so happy I thought you might want a picture taken."

"Oh, uh, thank you," Louisa said. "Martin?"

Martin was staring at the tourist with a frown. He really didn't want his picture taken but he knew that it would make Louisa happy, so he reluctantly shifted himself closer to her on the picnic blanket. Louisa sat James down on Martin's left leg so he was between them.

The tourist handed back Louisa's phone after he snapped a few photos. "Thank you," she called out to him. He waved back in response and headed down the beach. Louisa swiped through the images and smiled. The tourist managed to get one with James laughing, showing off his two front teeth. But Martin wasn't smiling in any of them. He looked content and that was good enough for her. She didn't expect him to smile for a stranger but he put up with it for her, and that made all the difference.

Louisa turned off her mobile and placed it in her handbag. "That was nice, wasn't it?"

"Mm, a complete invasion of our privacy, actually."

"Oh, it was fine. I didn't mind. Did you, James?" Louisa looked down at their little boy. He looked back up at her with his father's eyes and laughed. "Um, Martin, can you watch James for a few minutes? I'm going to use the loo before we leave."

"Yes." Louisa passed James over and Martin placed him in his lap. After she left, Martin said to his son, "So, James, let's say we make a sandcastle, hmm?" He pulled out the toy bucket and shovel from the nappy bag.

When Louisa returned to the beach, she stopped when she saw Martin and James. She smiled as she watched Martin place the bucket upside down on the sand then remove it, revealing a mold that looked like a turret. James squealed and reached out to touch it but Martin pulled his hands away. He instructed James on how to fill the bucket with sand using the shovel. James didn't agree and instead, preferred playing in the sand with his hands. Martin frowned and that was Louisa's cue to intervene.

"What do we have here?" She knelt down next to her two 'boys'.

Martin looked up at her as she returned. "Hmm? Oh, James and I are making a sandcastle."

"I see that." Louisa turned to her son. "Is Daddy showing you how to build a sandcastle?" James reached for her and let out a stream of syllables. Louisa hugged him to her and looked back at Martin. "You're so patient with him."

"Yes, well I try to be. He's usually well behaved, so . . ."

"Because he knows you're there to teach him, Martin."

"Mm."

Louisa ran her fingers through James' hair as he started to grow tired. She squinted as she looked out at the ocean. "It's such a lovely day." She turned to face Martin. "I'm glad you suggested we do this."

"Yes. It was nice spending time with just you and James." Martin realised her closeness and wrapped an arm around her waist. Louisa closed her eyes for a moment as she cherished this rare display of affection.

For a few minutes they just looked out at the sea. Neither spoke a word. Their closeness was all they needed.

. . .

The next morning Martin was awake before Louisa and was in the nursery, looking down at James as he slept. He brushed his fingers over his son's cheek.

The gesture awakened him and James stared up at his father with big, curious eyes. His lips curved into a grin. "Da!" he shouted, lifting his arms towards Martin.

"Shh, James," Martin tried quieting his son. "We don't want to wake your mother." He picked James up out of his cot to change his nappy and get him dressed for the day.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Martin placed James in his high chair then started up his espresso machine. He gave James a handful of dry cereal to keep him quiet, remembering that they would eat breakfast together once Louisa was up.

In a matter of minutes, James began to grow restless at being confined to his high chair. He started to whimper and Martin picked him up, tucking an arm under his bottom, keeping him close. With his espresso cup in hand and James safely perched in his right arm, Martin ventured towards the front door of the surgery.

He stepped outside into the sunshine and stood on the slate steps. He looked over the harbour, where the fishermen were readying their pots to be taken out to sea, and listened to the gentle sounds of the waves lapping at the sand. He gazed at the school and gestured with his espresso cup, "That's where Mummy works, James. Right over there." James followed his father's line of sight. "Soon you'll be going to school there, just like your mother." Martin paused and took a drink of his espresso.

James turned and buried his face in his father's neck. Martin remained quiet as he stared out at the village, reveling in the alone time he spent with his son. Since James' arrival, Martin was determined to be a better father than his own. He cherished James in a way he never did with anyone else. He just wished that he could have been more supportive and involved during Louisa's pregnancy. But at the time he was still bitter and saddened over her departure after calling off their wedding, and her surprise return left him in a state of shock. He often wondered, not too long after her return to Portwenn, if Louisa had stayed in London through her pregnancy and he had taken a job at Imperial College, if they would have ran into each other. He thought, now that they were together again, they just might have.

"Martin?" He turned around at his wife's voice. "What are you doing out here?" she asked.

James looked up as he heard his mother's gentle voice and reached out for her. Louisa took him into her arms and looked at Martin for an answer.

"Uh, nothing. We were just looking out at the harbour."

Louisa smiled. She had noticed him standing out there while she was in the nursery, looking down from the window. She knew Martin enjoyed his alone time with their son. When he was with James, Louisa could see a gentle side of her husband that only she was privy to. She hated to interrupt them but Sunday was their day to enjoy breakfast together as a family.

"I've started the eggs and wanted to let you know that they'll be ready soon," Louisa said as she turned back toward the surgery.

"Yes. I'll be there in a minute."

Louisa gave him a smile before entering the house with James.

When Martin entered the kitchen, Louisa had two plates prepared. James was happy with his oatmeal, and Martin frowned when he started finger painting with it. "Oh, Louisa . . ." he pointed to James.

Louisa turned from her position at the sink. "James! What have you gotten yourself into?" She wiped his hands and face clean and took away his bowl of oatmeal, replacing it with his purple dinosaur.

Martin sat down and looked at his plate: a boiled egg, toast, and an assortment of fresh fruit. He glanced up to meet Louisa's eyes as she settled herself across from him. "Problem?" Louisa asked as he just stared at her in silence.

He seemed to come out of his trance and cleared his throat. "Mm, no," Martin replied, digging into his egg.

Louisa eyed him inquisitively. It wasn't unusual for Martin to remain quiet when they ate, but there just seemed to be something off about him. "Is your egg alright?"

"Hmm?" He looked up at her. "Yes, it's satisfactory."

"Good." She smiled at him and took a bite of her toast.

After breakfast, Martin did the washing up while Louisa lounged on the sofa, simultaneously watching James in his playpen and catching up on her schoolwork.

"Um, Louisa?" Martin turned around from the sink, still in his apron.

"Yes, Martin?" She didn't look up at him.

"I was planning on visiting Ruth this afternoon. Would you and James like to come along?"

Louisa stopped what she was doing and glanced up at him. "Why don't you just take James with you? I know you enjoy your time with him." She started fiddling with her biro. "Plus I have to catch up on this." She held up her timetable notes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You and James have fun with Aunt Ruth. I'll be fine here."

Martin grunted and finished drying a saucepan.

Later that afternoon, Martin knocked on the door of Ruth's cottage. Ruth opened the door to find her nephew standing outside with James in one arm and a nappy bag in the other. "Martin? Was I expecting you?" she said as she stepped aside to let them in.

"No. I just thought I'd stop by for a visit."

Ruth eyed her nephew curiously as he made his way to her kitchen. She started the kettle and took out two tea cups. "Any particular reason?" she asked dryly.

"Mm, no." Martin sat down with James on his lap.

"Oh."

They were silent for a few moments until the kettle whistled. Ruth busied herself with preparing their tea. "How's Louisa?"

"Fine. She had some schoolwork to get done, so she let me take James along."

She turned around and set down two cups of tea before taking a seat next to him. Ruth watched as Martin took a hesitant sip of his tea. "Is something bothering you, Martin?"

"Hmm? No, why?"

"You just seem distracted."

"How's the B&B doing?" he asked, changing the subject.

Ruth set down her cup. "As a matter of fact, not too bad. I think Al is finally getting the hang of it. Now that Bert has his distillery up and running, business has started to increase."

Martin nodded his head. "Good."

Ruth let out a sigh. "Martin, you might as well just tell me what's on your mind. Something's obviously troubling you, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered coming over."

Martin looked down at James, who was playing with his father's large fingers. "I'm afraid, Ruth."

"Ok. Care to elaborate?"

Martin swallowed. "I'm afraid I'm going to ruin things between myself and Louisa. Now that we're living together again, I'm just terrified I'll do something to make her leave again."

"I see. Have you spoken to Louisa about this?"

"No, not really. We went to Newquay yesterday - the three of us."

"Hmm, how did that go?"

"It was . . . good - I enjoyed it . . . spending time with Louisa and James was nice."

"Right. And nothing happened? No mishaps? No rows?"

"Uh, apart from some moron who had a heart attack, not really."

Ruth looked down at her half empty cup of tea, contemplating what to tell her nephew. When she returned her gaze to his, she said, "Martin, what is it that really worries you? Specifically, I mean."

"Um - I . . ." He looked away for a moment and let out a deep breath. "That I'm too complicated for her; that she'll leave me again. She says she won't, but . . ." He sighed. "I'm just not good at being a husband. I've tried. I did the therapy, living apart - all that, but I'm still not sure of my ability to make her happy."

Ruth reached out to touch her nephew's arm. "Has Louisa told you what makes her happy? Have you asked her?"

"Here and there she tells me. But I'm just so afraid I'll do something wrong to make her leave again for good."

"Oh, Martin." Ruth truly felt sorry for her nephew. She knew how much he loved Louisa; knew how insecure he felt over their relationship. If only Joan were still here, she thought. She always knew how to handle Martin in times like this.

Martin could feel his eyes start to water. He picked up James and hugged him close to his chest. "I can't live without her, Ruth - or James. If they left I . . ."

"It's alright, Martin." Ruth thought for a moment, her finger rhythmically tapping her chin. "This insecurity of yours, could it be that the return of your blood phobia is causing you to stress over your strained marriage?"

"I don't know. It hasn't gotten any better. I was able to cure myself before James was born, but it came back just before Louisa's accident."

"I'm guessing you're through with therapy, then?"

"God. Yes."

Ruth let out a long sigh. "This goes against my moral judgement, but maybe it'll help if you and I talked - like this, at least once a week?"

Martin nodded in agreement. "Ok. That would be good. It might be difficult, what with patients and everything . . ."

"That's fine. Whatever makes you comfortable, Martin."

"Thank you, Ruth. I feel a little better now."

Ruth gave him a smile then gestured to James. "I think it's time for someone's nap."

Martin looked down at James. He was asleep against Martin's chest, his head resting on his shoulder. "Yes." He looked at his watch. "Louisa will be wondering where we are." He stood up, making sure not to wake up James in the process.

"You'll get through this, Martin. It'll just take time, unfortunately."

Martin ducked his head. "Yes. Thank you for the tea."

"Any time."

Martin picked up the nappy bag and headed for the door. As he tried to settle James into his push chair without a disruption, Martin thought about his aunt's advise. It was his phobia that brought him to Portwenn in the first place, he'd be damned if he let it destroy his marriage and family too.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a response to a question left in a review by guest user Audrey Nelson: (unless you've already figured it out) To post a story you first have to create an account. Then once you've logged in go under Publish on the sidebar then select About, there are some instructions there that show you how to upload a document and where things are located. Hope this answers your question, it was the only way I could reply to you since you're a guest user.**

Chapter Six

The start of a new week left Martin in a foul mood. Morwenna had made an error in her appointment scheduling, and on top of that, forgot to pick up his supplies from Mrs. Tishell. In the meantime, he was called out on an emergency in the village, only to find that the patient had bruised her wrist.

"A complete waste of my time," he muttered to himself as he stalked down the main road. He saw Penhale down by the Platt with an ice cream cone in hand. The policeman waved and Martin took a quick turn down a side street to avoid him.

When he reached the pharmacy, there were three people in a queue in front of him. Mrs. Tishell looked up as he had entered and quickly finished helping the customers ahead of him. "Good afternoon, Doctor Ellingham!" she cheerfully greeted him.

Martin scowled, not in the mood to make small talk. "I need to pick up my supplies that Morwenna ordered."

"Yes, of course, Dr. Ellingham." She turned around and picked up a box that was waiting on the counter. "Here you are." She smiled at him, about to hand over the box but she recoiled. "Oh, Dr. Ellingham, I just wanted to let you know that Clive is doing wonderful with the exercises and dietary regulations you recommended." Martin reached forward to the take the box from her but she continued rattling on, "Just this morning we took a walk down by the Platt."

"How nice. Mrs. Tishell, my supplies please?" Martin reached for the box but she wouldn't let him have it just yet.

"Oh, it was such a beautiful morning. Did you see the sun rise?" She looked at him expectantly, nervously fiddling with the band of her wristwatch.

Martin frowned at her. "No. Mrs. Tishell, I didn't come here to chat about the sun rise or your husband's condition. I came because my stupid receptionist couldn't remember to do it herself. Now, may I have my supplies, please?"

Mrs. Tishell's smile faded and she handed over the box. "Uh, yes, Doctor. Shall I put it on your account?"

"Yes. Goodbye." Martin tucked the box under his arm and left the shop.

"Goodbye, Doctor Ellingham!" Mrs. Tishell shouted after him.

When Martin started his trek up Roscarrock Hill to the surgery, Buddy, the little white terrier, came into step beside him. "Oh, go away," Martin said to the dog. Buddy continued to follow Martin the rest of the way to the surgery. "Leave me alone!" Martin tried pushing the dog away with his foot once he reached the front door. Buddy jumped up and nipped at Martin's sleeve, causing him to drop his medical bag. "Oh, now look what you've done!" Martin shouted at the canine. "Go bother somebody else! That's it, go! Leave me alone!" He picked up his medical bag, gave Buddy one last shove with his foot, then stumbled through the surgery. "Idiot dog," he mumbled.

"What's that?" Morwenna asked as she looked up from her magazine.

"Put that away." Martin gestured to the magazine. "This isn't a library."

"Ok. It's just been a quiet afternoon around here, is all." Morwenna dropped the magazine in a desk drawer.

"And I'd appreciate it, if next time you could remember to pick up my supplies from Mrs. Tishell as they come in."

"Yes, sir, can do. I'll just write myself a note for next time."

"I did write you a note." He pointed to a sticky note on her desk that had previously been covered by the magazine.

"Oh, that note. Sorry, Doc." Morwenna looked up at him apologetically.

"I don't even know why I bother," he said under his breath as he made his way to the consulting room.

"It's just, I have a date with Al tonight. Been sort of anxious all day . . ." Morwenna watched him disappear and shrugged her shoulders. She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out her magazine, flipping back to where she left off.

Martin was busy putting away the medical supplies he'd ordered when he heard the loud cry of his son echo from the kitchen. He dropped the package of syringes and rushed out of the consulting room.

"What's happened?" Martin asked as he appeared in the kitchen.

Janice looked up at him as she tried consoling an unhappy James. "He tried standing up next to his playpen but fell. I think he might have bumped his head on his toy fire engine." She rubbed the back of James' head as he continued to cry.

"Move! Give him to me!" Martin bent down and picked up James, tucking him into the crook of his right arm. He turned and headed back to his consulting room.

"James," Martin addressed his son as he closed the door, "you're going to be just fine." He laid him down on the exam couch and James furiously kicked his legs in disagreement. "Shh, shh." Martin ran his fingers over his head of blonde hair, searching for any bumps or lesions. "Does it hurt here?" he asked in his strict, medical tone of voice as he placed his fingers over a spot just above his forehead. James let out another wail and Martin picked him up. He softened his voice and started pacing around the room. "It's okay, James. No bumps or lesions, a bit tender, but it'll heal fast."

A few minutes passed and James' screams subsided into soft whimpers. His face was flushed and wet with tears, so Martin wiped his nose and cheeks clean with a paper towel. "There, there," he tried soothing. "What were you thinking standing up on your own, James? Hmm?" James turned and buried his face in Martin's neck, shielding himself. "I suppose you just thought you were ready, was that it?" He rubbed his boy's back in a soothing manner as he continued his walk around the consulting room. "Or maybe you just wanted to show off for Jane." Martin grinned a little as he looked down at James, now calm and breathing evenly.

The door opened and Morwenna stood in the entryway. "No! Get out!" Martin waved a finger at her and James stirred in his arms at the sound of his raised voice.

"I was just wonderin' if everything was alright?"

"Yes, we're fine. Morwenna!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "What have I told you about knocking?"

"I know, but Doc your next patient . . . It's an emergency."

"Oh, really? What is it this time?"

"Head trauma. Looks pretty grisly."

The patient in question stepped out behind Morwenna holding a bloodied towel to his head. Martin grimaced at the sight and could feel the nausea coming on. "Yes, come through." Martin handed James to Morwenna. "Could you leave him with Jane please?"

"Janice - her name's Janice," Morwenna said shaking her head.

"Whatever. Uh, you," he pointed to the patient, "take a seat on the exam couch." The patient walked by him, giving Martin a close view of the red-stained towel. "Oh, God." His face turned pale as he fought the urge to vomit all over the floor. The door of the consulting room closed once more and Martin reluctantly turned his full attention to his hemorrhaging patient.

Later that evening, Martin was at his desk writing notes for his last patient when Louisa came in with James in her arms. "Martin! Janice told me James fell and bumped his head. What happened?"

Martin looked up at her. "Uh, yes, he did. He tried to stand up on his own and lost his balance. He's fine. There's a tender spot just above his forehead. Nothing to worry about."

"But, Martin, I worry." Louisa hugged James close to her.

"Yes, I understand that you do." He looked away from her and continued writing, trying not to lose his train of thought.

"Um, how was your day?" she asked him after a moment of silence.

Martin made one last scribble then slipped the patient's notes into its corresponding sleeve. He let out a weary sigh. "I've had better."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

He stood up and stepped closer to her. "Mm, it's over with now. I have you and James to myself for the rest of the day." He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek then let it rest on the crown of James' head.

Louisa looked down at James. "He will be okay, won't he? You're absolutely sure nothing is wrong?"

"Yes. Louisa, I conducted the examination myself. No visible bumps, just a tender spot by his hairline. He'll be good as new in a day or two."

Louisa let out the breath she'd been holding since Janice relayed the news. "Good." She rubbed James' back. "Were you planning on cooking dinner tonight, or shall I?"

"Um, how about we do it together?"

Louisa brightened at his suggestion. "Yes, that would be nice, Martin."

"Pollock? Or chicken, perhaps? Whatever you'd like."

Louisa thought for a moment. "I could go for some fish actually."

Martin almost smiled, knowing she thought he was obsessed with eating fish everyday. "Yes. Right."

Louisa leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'll just get James' dinner first then we can get started."

"Yes." He watched her turn away with James before picking up the stack of patient notes on his desk.

When Martin entered the kitchen, James was seated in his high chair, making a mess with his puréed peas and carrots. Louisa was at the cooker, unaware of his presence. He stood and watched her for a moment, mesmerised by her beauty. His gaze traveled up her legs and lingered at her waist. He quietly moved around the table to surprise her, but unfortunately James ruined the moment.

"Da!" the young Ellingham squealed.

Louisa jumped at the unexpected sound and turned around to find Martin standing behind her. "Oh, Martin!" She laid a hand on her chest to calm her breathing.

Martin took a step back. "Mm, sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's alright. I just wasn't expecting you to be standing behind me."

"Da!" James squealed again, trying to get his father's attention. He reached out with hands smeared in peas and carrots and Martin frowned at the sight. He took a hand towel and wiped James clean then moved his bowl out of the boy's reach.

"Can you start preparing the fish?" Louisa asked him, turning from her work at cutting the vegetables.

"Yes."

They worked together, Martin periodically checking the marinated pollock as it broiled while refraining from making a derisive comment about Louisa's inability to clean as she moved from task to task. In the meantime, Louisa finished cooking the rice and set the vegetables steaming, aware of Martin's critical gaze as she flitted about the kitchen.

Dinner was quiet as they ate. Louisa decided that it was best not to get her husband worked up over small talk after the stressful day he had. She was able to feed James a few more spoonfuls of his peas and carrots until he decided he had had enough. Martin cleaned him up one last time and put him down in his playpen while he and Louisa did the washing up.

Louisa washed and rinsed the dishes while Martin dried and put them away. He was standing to her left by the dishwasher, when she stopped, resting her soapy hands on the edge of the countertop, and gazed out the window. Martin looked down at her left hand, her silver wedding band staring back at him. He set down the pot he was drying and rested his hand next to her much smaller one. He smiled to himself as he thought back to their taxi ride after having saved Peter Cronk's life. He slowly moved his hand closer to her's, and Louisa glanced down from the corner of her eye, a smile forming as she seemed to remember the events of that day as well.

When Martin's fingers made contact with her's, Louisa turned and took his face in her hands, firmly placing her lips against his. Their kiss quickly turned passionate, just as it had in that taxi, and Martin wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, pulling her to him as close as possible.

Louisa pulled away, breathing heavy, "Martin . . ."

"Louisa . . ." His voice was gruff as his mind clouded over with thoughts of his beautiful wife. He leaned down and took her mouth in another deep kiss.

When they parted, Louisa stifled a laugh and asked him, "Is my breath okay?"

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating an appropriate answer. "Tastes of pollock and cauliflower." He grinned and tightened his arms around her waist. "But it doesn't matter because I love you very much, Louisa."

Louisa smiled at him from ear to ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Oh, Martin. I love you, too; I do - so very much."

Martin closed his eyes at her words. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have her. She was the most important woman in his life (apart from Ruth of course) and he was happy that she chose to spend her life with _him._

"Maybe once James is asleep we can retire to bed a little early tonight?" Louisa silkily whispered in his ear.

Martin pulled back from their embrace to gaze into her eyes. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Good." She tossed a dish towel at him. "Now back to work, Dr. Ellingham."

Martin smiled at her. "Yes, Mrs. Ellingham."

 **Author's Note: Have a wonderful Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone out there around the world. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and giving me feedback! This is not the end! There is still more to come for Martin and Louisa and the rest of the Doc Martin gang, so stick around!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm terribly sorry for the super long wait everyone. Spring semester is under way for me. But I'm going to try really hard to post weekly updates on the weekends, otherwise I promise not to make you wait so long for the next chapter. Thank you for bearing with me!**

Chapter Seven

The next morning Martin was awake early, lying on his side, watching Louisa as she slept. Her dark hair was fanned out over her pillow and Martin curled a strand around his finger. She stirred and Martin pulled his hand away, not wanting to wake her just yet. He smiled as his eyes wandered down to her bare shoulder, remembering the previous evening's activities. He reached out once more and lightly traced the curve of her jawline with the backs of his fingers.

Louisa awakened at Martin's delicate touch. She turned her head to find him staring at her in a way that, over the years she's known him, she came to interpret as loving. She returned his smile and Martin pushed her hair behind her ear, keeping his hand resting against her cheek. "Mm, good morning . . . husband," she said.

"Good morning . . . Mrs. Ellingham."

Louisa reached up and grasped his wrist, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. "Sleep well?"

"Mm, yes. Maybe the best night's sleep I've had all week. And you?"

"Good." Louisa yawned. "Still a bit tired though. Someone kept me awake late last night."

Martin cleared his throat and averted his eyes. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he recalled just how late they stayed up. "Mm, sorry."

With her other hand, Louisa touched his cheek, turning him back to face her fully. "Don't be. It was very nice."

"Just _nice_?"

Louisa's smile widened at his teasing remark. "No, it was lovely, Martin."

"Yes."

"Good, now come here." She pulled him closer, their noses just barely touching.

His eyes sparkled as he gazed back at her. "You're being very emotional for a Tuesday morning, Louisa."

"Martin?" She rolled her eyes.

"What? Should I be concerned about something?"

"No." Louisa clasped her hands behind his neck as he looked down at her, confused. "It's just - we don't normally have time alone like this in the mornings. I don't want to waste it, do you?"

He thought for a moment. "No."

"Good." She tilted her head so she could kiss him properly. When he pulled away, Martin nuzzled his face in her neck, leaving gentle kisses below her ear. Louisa giggled and ran her fingernails through his cropped, greying hair.

"What?" Martin asked, his voice muffled in her hair.

Louisa tilted her head to the side as her husband continued his trail of kisses down her neck. She let out another laugh. "That tickles!"

Martin pulled back. "Oh, sorry. I thought . . . ?"

"No, no . . ." Louisa shifted closer to him. "That was nice, Martin. I mean, I was enjoying what you were doing."

"Oh. Good."

"Yes, it is." She traced the rim of his left ear with her thumb.

She remained quiet and transfixed on some spot over his shoulder. "Is something wrong?" Martin asked.

Louisa shook her head as she felt her eyes start to tear up. "No, Martin, nothing's wrong."

"Then what? You're crying, why?" He tilted his head as he gazed down at her.

"It's . . ." She moved her hand to trace the outline of his lower lip. "I'm finally seeing the real you."

Martin furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've waited so long to see this gentle, romantic side of you and . . ." She reached up to wipe away a stray tear. "I almost walked away from it - from you. I'm sorry, Martin."

Martin softened as he looked down at her. He pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. "It's not your fault, Louisa. Please, don't blame yourself."

Louisa squeezed her eyes shut, feeling more tears trickle down her cheeks. She pushed his shoulders back so she could see him. "Martin, I know you have doubts when it comes to us. But I just want to say that I don't regret marrying you. I want to be with you, Martin. Please trust me when I say that." She paused to swipe at her watering eyes. "Trust me when I say I won't leave you again. Will you?"

"Um . . . Yes, I'll try."

"Thank you, Martin."

"You're welcome." He leaned down and kissed her gently. Louisa returned the gesture, her kisses growing more urgent and increasing in fervour. They shifted positions so they were both lying on their sides, holding each other close under the bedsheets. Martin's left hand moved over her bare shoulder and began drifting down her back when the alarm clock went off. They both pulled away simultaneously and let out a sigh. Then, like clockwork, James Henry let out a cry through the baby monitor at the disturbing sound.

"I'll get him," Martin insisted, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.

"Alright. I'll just start the shower then."

"Yes." Martin knotted the sash of his dressing gown then leaned back down to kiss his wife one more time before heading over to the nursery.

Louisa smiled as she watched him leave. They were making progress with their relationship. And without the help of a therapist, Louisa thought in triumph.

Downstairs in the kitchen, James gurgled and turned his head away as Martin tried feeding him another spoonful of applesauce. "Just one more bite, James. Please?" Martin prodded his son. "Despite the unnecessary added sugar, the fiber is good for you." James pushed his father's hand away and turned his head in the other direction. Martin let out a quiet sigh. "Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong, James?" The boy blew a bubble of saliva at Martin, deciding that once and for all he was done with his breakfast. "Alright." Martin stood up and placed James' breakfast bowl in the sink.

At the same time, Louisa whizzed past him as she reached for her coat hanging next to the kitchen door. "Sorry, Martin," she said as she almost bumped into him. "I'm going to be late."

"But Louisa, um, Jen-"

"Janice," she immediately corrected him.

Martin tugged at his ear. "Yes, Janice. Why isn't she here yet?"

"She had to help Joe with something down at the station. She rang me while you were in the shower."

"You mean, Penhale?"

Louisa let out an impatient sigh as she fished around her purse for her keys. "Yes, Martin, PC Penhale."

"What on earth for? The man can't possibly have that much to do in a village like this."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him and refrained her anger at his comment about the village. It's not worth it, she told herself. The less rows we have, the better. "Martin, I'm sure she'll be here soon." She moved over to James and combed her fingers through her son's head of light hair.

"But my first patient . . ."

"Isn't here yet. I'm sure James can keep you company for a few minutes." She leaned down and kissed James' cheek and hands, cooing into his ear, "Bye bye, sweetheart. Be good for your daddy and Janice, alright?" James smiled up at his mother, earning him another kiss to his cheek.

Louisa turned to leave but Martin stopped her, not quite through with their discussion over their late childminder. "Louisa, this can't keep happening. We hired her to be here on time every weekday; It's unexcusable."

Louisa relaxed her shoulders and sighed. "I know, Martin. We can have a talk with her when I get home. Is that alright?"

Martin eyed her warily then looked away. "Yes, fine."

"Good." She moved to his side and kissed his cheek, leaving behind a faint stamp of lightly shaded lipstick. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

Martin returned his gaze to her's and, taking hold of her free hand, he pulled her in close. Dipping his head, he kissed her lips softly, surprising her with his spontaneity. "Yes. Have a good day."

Louisa stared up at him in amazement. This was _her_ Martin. No matter how much she yearned for him to be more affectionate in public, she cherished these private, more tender moments the most. "Thank you, Martin. You, too." She flashed him a bright smile.

He nodded his head and with a flick of her ponytail, she was off. Turning back to his son, Martin removed the child's bib, wiped his face, then picked him up. He settled down on the sofa in the living room with James on his knee as they waited for Janice to arrive.

. . .

Later that morning, Louisa was at her desk, scrolling through the school's timetables on her computer when Pippa Woodley rushed through the door of her office. "We have a situation in one of the year six classrooms," she said frantically.

Louisa looked up at her. "What? What kind of situation?"

"A fight."

"What?" Pippa filled Louisa in on the details as they made their way to the classroom. When they arrived, the new janitor, who had replaced Mr. Coley, had managed to intervene and was keeping one of the boys at bay while the other lay on the floor curled in a ball, the other students standing at the back of the classroom watching.

"Oh, dear," Louisa mumbled to herself as she took in the sight of the taller boy. His school uniform was disheveled and stained with the blood that was dripping off his chin. She moved over and knelt down to the boy on the floor. Louisa recognised him as Adam, the one who was previously dared to lick the floor. "Adam?"

He turned to face the head mistress and groaned in pain. "What's wrong, Adam, where does it hurt?" Louisa asked.

He looked down at his hand, which was twisted in an uncomfortable-looking angle. Louisa gingerly touched the back of his hand and the boy grimaced when she moved her fingers over his wrist.

Pippa knelt down beside Louisa. "I think this might be a job for that husband of yours, eh?"

"Yeah, I think you're right. Adam, can you sit up for me?" The boy slowly moved to a sitting position and Louisa helped him get to his feet. "Ok, Adam why don't you wait in my office, alright?" He nodded and followed Miss Woodley out of the classroom. "Gregory," she said to the boy still being held back by the janitor, "let's get you cleaned up while we wait for Dr. Ellingham to arrive, hmm? Then we'll discuss this little incident between you and Adam later."

When Martin arrived at the school nurse's room, Louisa was cleaning Gregory's face with a wet towel. "Hi, Martin," Louisa greeted him as he strolled in.

"Mm. God." Martin averted his eyes from the crimson-stained towel as he looked the boy over. "What happened?"

"Gregory and Adam got into a fight. You'll need to check over Adam too, but . . ." She indicated the dried blood on the boy's mouth and chin. "I think one of his teeth got knocked out."

"Where?" Martin moved her hand away and using his pen torch, took a look around the inside of Gregory's mouth. "Open wider," he instructed. "Good, now tilt your head back and look up." Martin let out a quiet grunt once he finished his examination. "The, um, lower left molar next to the incisor is missing. He'll have to go to the dentist for a proper examination, but I can clean the gum tissue out with a saline solution. He'll probably feel sore for a few days, along with some bruising around the jaw." Martin dug around in his medical bag, pulling out a plastic syringe and a vial of clear liquid.

At the sight of the syringe, Gregory gasped and clamped his mouth shut. "What? There's no needle, see," Martin said, showing the boy. "This won't hurt. It'll just taste a bit salty, can you handle that?"

Gregory nodded and opened his mouth. After Martin flushed the gum free of blood and ripped tissue, he packed some dry cotton into the open space to stem the bleeding. Louisa then sent the boy to go wait with Miss Woodley. "Can you take a look at Adam too?" Louisa asked him, leading the way to her office.

"Why? More missing teeth? Louisa, I'm not a dentist, I-"

"Yes, Martin I know," she said, whirling around to face him. "A child in my school was bleeding profusely. I thought the best course of action was to call you first. Besides, dentists don't make home visits, or in this case school visits." She shook her head to calm herself, knowing she was getting off track with her rant. "And no, Adam's teeth look to be all in tact. It's his wrist. I think it might be broken."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Can you wiggle your fingers?" Martin asked Adam as he examined him in Louisa's office. Adam nodded and wiggled his fingers. "Good. No bend your wrist back and forth." Adam bent his wrist down and gasped. Martin gently palpated the area. "Mm. Hard to tell if the bone's fractured," he told Louisa. "He'll need to go to hospital for an x-ray then come back and see me." Martin addressed the boy, "Try not to bend your wrist until you get to hospital, okay? In the meantime, you should ice the area for fifteen minutes every half hour to keep the swelling down. Can you do that?" Adam nodded.

"Alright Adam, once I'm done talking with Dr. Ellingham we can phone your parents and get some ice on that wrist. Why don't you wait outside, okay?"

Again, Adam nodded then stood up from his chair and left Louisa's office.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" Martin asked as he snapped his medical bag shut.

He was facing her desk so Louisa moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her check against his upper back. "Nothing. I just missed you is all."

Martin blew a hiss of air through his nose. "We were just at home together not two hours ago, Louisa. How can you possibly miss me?"

"I meant, I've been thinking about you all morning."

Martin rolled his eyes. He still didn't understand why she couldn't just come out and say what was really on her mind. "Oh? What were you thinking?" He looked down at the framed pictures adorning her desk.

She squeezed him tighter. "Of this. Being close to you. I rushed out of the house in a hurry this morning. But now that you're here everything's just right."

"I see." Martin turned around in her embrace.

Louisa looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you for coming."

Martin shook his head. "Mm, no need. It's my job."

"I know."

Martin continued to stare at her, lost in her beautiful features. "You know, in the past, every time you called me in for an emergency, I always wished it could have been like this."

Louisa furrowed her brow, not quite sure what he was getting at. "What do you mean?"

Martin clasped his hands behind the small of her back. "How we are now. Alone - together in your office."

A flush began to creep it's way up her neck and into her cheeks. "Martin!" she exclaimed, stifling a laugh at her husband's fantasy. "I had no idea you thought of such things."

He cocked his head to the side. "Why not? I am a man, and after all, you were - are - the most beautiful woman in the village."

"Oh, Martin." Louisa reached up and tenderly caressed his cheek with her thumb. "You know how I get when you say things like that."

"Mm, yes. Um, Louisa, I really should get back to the surgery. I had to leave in the middle of a consultation when you called."

"Of course." She released her hold on him so he could grab his medical bag. "Should I pick up some fish on my way home? If you're in the mood for it."

Martin thought for a moment. A trip to the seafood market would give him an excuse to pop out and talk with Ruth. "Um, why don't I do it? That way you can relax and spend some time with James when you get home."

"Ok, if you really want to. Oh, maybe pick up some potatoes and vegetables as well. We're running low."

"Yes."

"See you at home."

"Yes."

Before he could make his exit though, Louisa placed a kiss on his cheek. "See you later."

"Yes." Martin gave her a loving look then turned to leave.

. . .

Martin kept a watchful eye out for any gossiping villagers as he stood at the door of Ruth's cottage. He knocked twice, loudly so his elderly aunt would be able to hear him. A moment later the door opened and his aunt's face peered at him from around the semi-open door.

"Oh, Martin!" she said, opening the door wider for him to enter. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Martin stepped through the doorway and stood somewhat awkwardly in her entryway. "Yes, I'm sorry. I had some unexpected time so I thought . . . maybe we could talk or . . . I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. How was one supposed to ask a relative for psychological help anyway?

Ruth eyed her nephew critically. She knew what he was here for, but wanted to see if he would come out and say it. Almost, but good enough for Martin, she thought. "Right. Shall I start the kettle?"

"Um, no. I mean, I don't have much time. I'm supposed to be out buying a fish and some produce. Water will do, thank you."

Ruth gestured for him to sit on the sofa while she moved towards the kitchen. "So I take it Louisa doesn't know that you're visiting with me, then?" she asked when she returned with two glasses of water.

Martin took his glass and set it down on the table in front of him. "Uhm, no," he said to the coffee table.

Ruth sat down at the chair at her desk, which was positioned next to the sofa. "I see. Is there a reason why you don't want her to know?"

Martin averted his attention from the grains in the oak table. "No, not really. I don't know. I guess I just don't want her to worry. We've been doing very well since we stopped seeing Dr. Timoney - not that she wasn't helpful or resourceful or anything . . ." Martin cleared his throat at his awkward comment and took a large swig from his glass of water.

"No, I understand, Martin. So you said you and Louisa have been doing well?"

He nodded. "Uhm, yes, I think so. We haven't had that many disagreements if that's what you wanted to know."

"Martin, this is about you. I'm just here to listen and give you guidance. I'm not going to pick your brain as I would with one of my patients at Broadmoor. Just feel free to say whatever comes to mind."

Martin nodded. "Right. Ok." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Martin was unsure what to say. He preferred having to talk when asked a question rather than drone on and on like many of the villagers did. He wished Louisa was with him. She always knew how to keep a conversation going, no matter how awkward or mundane it was.

"Alright," Ruth started, "how was your week?"

Martin looked up from his fixation on his polished shoes. "Um, okay. It wasn't a good week . . . but it wasn't a bad week either."

"That's good. What about your clocks? Have you been working on anything new?"

Martin furrowed his brow. Clocks? Weren't they supposed to be discussing his and Louisa's relationship? "Um, I don't see how my enjoyment of horology is relevant."

"Yes, but repairing clocks is an activity that you enjoy, right?" He nodded so Ruth continued, "I just wanted to know if the activity is a sort of stress reliever for you."

Martin thought for a moment. He wasn't sure. He didn't think of his hobby as a stress reliever per se, it was just something he enjoyed doing, other than practicing medicine. "I don't know. I'm good at it. I find the process to be mentally stimulating and challenging. I'm not sure about relieving stress."

Ruth crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap as she looked across at her nephew. "I think a stress relieving activity would be of benefit to you, Martin. Dealing with whinging patients all day and having to care for a small child on top of that is enough stress in itself. And with your blood phobia . . . I just think having a good stress reliever might help you to feel more open and comfortable with Louisa."

"An activity?" Martin scrunched his face in disgust. "You mean like a _physical_ activity?"

"Not necessarily. Unless there's something you do enjoy, it can be anything. Like your clocks for instance. It doesn't have to be a sport, just something to give your mind a rest from the responsibilities of being a doctor, husband, and father."

"I see."

Ruth could see the puzzled look on her nephew's face. "I'm just making a suggestion, Martin. I'm not your therapist. You don't have to do an activity if you don't want to, I just think-"

"Yes, I understand," Martin interjected. He thought for another moment. "Could it be an activity that Louisa and James can do as well?"

"Of course. Like I said, anything to give that mind of yours a break."

Martin drank down the last of his water then stood up. "Ok. I'll try and think of something. Thank you, Ruth, for doing this with me."

"You're welcome, Martin." She stood up and hesitantly put her arms around him. Martin was surprised by her affectionate gesture so he stooped his tall frame and wrapped an around her back.

"You best get to the market before the best catch is all snatched up."

Martin pulled away from his aunt. "Mm, yes. Hopefully Louisa won't mind my tardiness."

Ruth gave him a rare smile, knowing Martin would probably be on the receiving end of Louisa's many questions once he returned home. "See you next week sometime, then?" she asked him as he opened her front door.

"Yes."

He turned to leave and Ruth shouted after him, "And don't forget about the produce!"

Martin raised his hand in acknowledgment as he walked down her footpath.

When Martin entered the surgery through the kitchen door, Louisa was on the floor in the living room playing with James.

Louisa looked up when she heard the door rattle open. "There you are," she said in mock relief. "We were wondering what took you so long." Louisa smiled down at James as he handed her one of his toy building blocks.

Martin busied himself with putting away the groceries he bought to avoid her questioning. "Sorry, they only had cod left. I hope that's alright."

"That's fine."

He closed the door of the refrigerator and moved over to the living room. "Hello, James," Martin said in that tender voice that he reserved just for his son. He brushed his fingers over the boy's hair then settled himself down on the sofa.

James, now glad that his father was in the room, pushed away the blocks that were surrounding him and crawled over towards Martin. Louisa watched with a smile on her face as James grabbed on to Martin's pant legs and tried pulling himself up to his full height.

"Martin, make sure he doesn't fall," Louisa said, reaching a hand out to help her son.

"Yes, I know. I've got him." Martin placed his hand on James' back as he successfully pulled himself to a standing position.

Louisa clapped her hands at her son's achievement. "Good job, James! Now can you walk back to Mummy?"

James turned his head to look at Louisa. He clapped along with her, letting out a string of giggles and laughter. "Go on, James," Martin encouraged him. "Walk back to Mummy. You can do it."

Louisa held her arms out and James turned around, keeping his hold on Martin's pant leg. He brought one foot forward, the movement feeling strange yet entirely new at the same time, and then the other. "Come on, James. You're almost there. Just a few more steps," Louisa cheered him on.

"Mmaam!" James shrieked, then took two stumbling steps into Louisa's waiting arms.

She scooped him up and kissed his cheek. "That was wonderful, James! We're so proud of you, sweetheart, aren't we, Martin?" Louisa looked up at her husband with her eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he replied. Then he smiled. James Henry was now walking - or at least just starting to learn the motions. He continued to smile at his wife and son, who seemed to be in their own little world that he so desperately wanted to be apart of. He stood up and knelt down next to Louisa. James turned in her arms and wriggled, trying to get free. Martin picked him up and swung him high above his head. James laughed, and when he came back down face to face with Martin, he placed his little hands on his father's cheeks.

As Martin looked into his son's bright blue eyes, he felt happy with his family. Louisa wrapped an arm around his waist and he turned to see her smiling at him. There wasn't anywhere he'd rather be than with Louisa and James.

 **Brief Author's Note: I'm looking for any suggestions on what sort of activity Martin might find to be a stress reliever. If he should stick with his clocks or develop another hobby? I'll eventually come up with something, but I'm just curious to see what anybody else thinks.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

October was drawing to an end and November was fast approaching. And life in the Ellingham household was never 'normal', but for Martin it was a haven he'd longed for his entire life. His weekly talks with Ruth had been put on hold the past few weeks due to the start of flu season, resulting in an increase in ill patients. On the positive side, James Henry was improving his walking skills everyday, but unfortunately tiring his parents out at having to keep up with his increased mobility.

"Martin," Louisa addressed her husband as they sat at the breakfast table Monday morning.

Martin looked up from his medical journal. "Yes?"

"I was thinking of asking Al if he could help install some child safety gates for the stairs. Now that James is more mobile." She turned to her son and tickled his cheek, eliciting a giggle from the young Ellingham. She used the opportunity to spoon another serving of his mashed banana into his open mouth.

"Mm. A waste of paid labour. I can do it myself."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. Even though he was a skilled vascular surgeon, she didn't think her husband was too proficient in the DIY department. "Are you sure?"

Martin closed his journal and set it aside. "They're child safety gates, Louisa. We're not knocking down a wall. How hard can it be?"

"Oh. Okay, if you're so sure of yourself maybe we can head over to Wadebridge and pick up some supplies later - if you're not busy, that is."

"Um, I'd have to check my diary."

"Yes, of course." Louisa reached over and wiped James' face with his bib before standing and putting her breakfast dishes in the sink.

From her abrupt movements and tight-lipped answer, Martin sensed his wife was disappointed in his reluctance to go out. He folded his napkin and placed it next to his half-eaten breakfast. "Um, I suppose after the surgery closes we could go out . . . to Wadebridge, like you said." He cleared his throat. "Then perhaps have dinner somewhere - if you want?"

Louisa turned around to face him and smiled. "Yes, Martin, that would be nice."

"Good." He stood up and brought his plate over to the sink.

Louisa noticed the lack of food he had eaten and sighed internally. She didn't know what to do about her husband's poor appetite. He was still thin - significantly thinner than when they first met. She thought that after their separation was over with he would be less stressed, have an increased appetite, but . . . She thought about discussing it with him, but surmised that he'd only be evasive about it. Maybe Ruth could help, she pondered.

Louisa watched him as he refilled his espresso cup. She observed the faraway look in his eyes as he stared out the kitchen window. "Martin, are you okay?" she asked him.

He turned his gaze to meet his wife's. "Yes, why?"

"Nothing. It's just - you look like you're miles away."

He cleared his throat and brought his cup to his lips. "I'm not. I'm right here."

"Yes, physically you are. But up here you're not." She reached up and tapped his forehead with her fingertip.

He shook his head. "I'm fine, Louisa. Just a bit tired. It is Monday you know." He finished off his espresso then rinsed the cup out in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher.

"Yes." Louisa moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, sensing that he was in need of some affection. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. "I love you, you know," she said as she looked up at him.

The lines at the corners of his eyes softened as he gazed down at her. "Yes, I know." He brushed his hand over the top of her head as he let her hold him.

The door of the kitchen opened and Martin stepped away from their embrace. Janice entered, dressed in one of her loud, eclectic outfits, reminiscent of what Morwenna usually wore. The young girl paused as she noticed the strained movements of her employers. "Sorry if I'm a bit early," she apologized, while awkwardly setting her canvas backpack down on the floor by James' high chair.

"That's alright, Janice. I was just about to head out," Louisa said, straightening a pleat in her skirt.

Janice turned her attention to the young Ellingham. "And how are you this morning, James Henry?" She ruffled his hair and he threw up his arms, wanting to get free.

"I have patients," Martin said brusquely, reaching over to pick up his medical journal from the table.

Louisa grasped his hand before he could escape. "See you later, Martin."

He turned his gaze back to her. "Yes." He felt her squeeze his hand and, remembering they were not alone, reluctantly let go.

. . .

"Hold still," Martin said as he peered into the right eye of his patient.

The woman shifted in her chair as Martin pulled on the skin below her eye. "At first I thought it was hay fever 'cause of my headaches, but then I had problems reading the paper, so I knew it couldn't be that-"

"Stop talking," Martin interjected. He moved back and switched off his othalmoscope, then placed it in its protective case. He stood up from his stool and sat back down behind his desk.

"Well?" the woman inquired. "It's not hay fever is it?"

Martin looked up from his writing. "No, it's not hay fever. You have Keratitis."

The woman scrunched her brows in confusion. "Well what's that? Sounds like a form of arthritis." She chuckled to herself. "Can you imagine? Arthritis in the eye?"

Martin sighed and looked down at his watch. It was only half past ten and already he felt his patience growing thin with the villagers of Portwenn. "No, Mrs., uh . . ." He looked at his notes. "Foster. It's not hay fever. And _no_ it's not arthritis either. Your cornea is inflamed. Do you wear contact lenses?"

The red-haired woman nodded her head vigorously. "Sure do, Doc."

Martin scribbled down a note for the patient's record. "Mm. Some bacteria was probably transferred from your contact lens to your eye. You should make sure you follow the correct cleaning procedures set by your optometrist."

The woman held a hand up to her reddened eye. "I won't lose my vision will I?"

"No. With a course of treatment you'll be fine." He pulled out his prescription pad. "I'll prescribe you a course of antibiotics to reduce the inflammation, but you should make an appointment with your optometrist as a follow up. Keep your contacts as clean as possible and don't wear them longer than instructed to." He signed and handed over the prescription.

"Thanks, Doc." She looked down at the piece of paper. "What was it you called it again?"

"Keratitis."

"Keratitis," the woman repeated. Then she smiled. "Still sounds like a form of arthritis." She stood up and swung her oversized handbag over her shoulder. "Thanks again, Doc, for your help."

"Yes." Martin grunted and looked back down at the notes on his desk.

"By the way, I'm really glad you and Louisa are back together again," she said. "A shame that would have been if you two had split up for good. But everything's all hunky-dory again now isn't it?"

Martin glanced up at her with a scowl. "My personal life is none of your business - or anyone else's in this godforsaken village!"

"My apologies, Doc. It's just my little one was in one of Louisa's classes and-"

"Goodbye, Mrs. Johnson," Martin said dismissively.

The woman frowned and straightened her back. "Humph! It's Mrs. _Foster_ , by the way." She walked out of the consulting room, muttering, "Tosser."

Martin heard the familiar insult but paid it no attention. After years of living in Portwenn, he'd learned to tune out that particular word. "Next patient!" he shouted through the open doorway.

At half past twelve there was finally a break in his schedule and Martin was glad for the temporary reprieve from his patients. Janice was feeding James his lunch when he entered the kitchen. "Oh, hi, Doc," the girl said as she placed another cracker on the tray of James' high chair. "We weren't expecting you to be joining us."

Martin awkwardly walked by the table towards the refrigerator. "Mm, I'm not." Finding nothing appealing, he closed the refrigerator door and turned to look out the kitchen window. The sun was shining, leaving a glare on the stone countertop. He thought back to his aunt's advice a few weeks ago about relieving stress. He tried thinking of an activity, but the more he thought about it the more stressed he became.

"I think your daddy's a bit lonely, James Henry," Janice said as she watched a motionless Martin stare unseeingly out the kitchen window.

Jarred from his thoughts, Martin turned his head to face the childminder. "I'm not lonely. I just . . . need some air." He cleared his throat and took two large strides to the door, opening it and quickly disappearing on the other side of it.

He came around the side of the surgery and stood on the front terrace, looking out at the harbour. He gazed over at the school and felt a familiar pull in his chest. He closed his eyes and pictured his wife sitting at her desk, going through her duties, without so much as a worry. He opened his eyes and looked at the cliffs to his left. He breathed in the salty sea air and started walking up the road.

Without giving it much thought, Martin soon found himself following the footpath that ran along the edge of the cliffs. He came to a stop at one of the fields, where a bench was perfectly positioned to observe the sea and village from above.

For a moment Martin was taken back in time as he remembered having to deliver the baby of Louisa's bridesmaid on the day of their non-wedding. But he let the memory go, since the rest of that day was one that took months for him to move forward from. Instead of the wooden bench, Martin sat down on the grass and pulled his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his shins and looked out at the sea, glistening under the autumn sun.

He didn't know what, but there was just an empty void that seemed to be growing inside him. He had Louisa's love; that he knew for sure. He had his son, whom he cherished more than anything. He smiled as he thought of James. His little boy was always so excited whenever he set eyes on Martin that sometimes he didn't think it was real. He'd never been loved that way since his time with his Auntie Joan.

He blew a hiss of air through his nose as he thought of his late aunt. He knew she found him exasperating at times, but that was only because of his stubbornness. How he wished for Joan to still be alive. If she could only see James she'd be so proud of him. Martin absently twisted his wedding band around his finger, feeling an unfamiliar wetness on his cheek. He reached up and wiped away his tears. He sat for a few minutes and watched as a boat was making its way back into the harbour. The tears continued but Martin didn't care. He felt a cool breeze tickle his ear, and Martin could imagine his aunt sitting with him, just as they did when he was a boy, while they looked out at the sea from her farm.

"Martin?"

He turned around to see Louisa standing behind him, the ends of her coat flapping in the breeze. He looked at his watch, wondering how long he'd been sitting there looking at the ocean.

"Morwenna couldn't get a hold of you when your next patient arrived, so she called me." She moved and sat down next to him. "How long have you been up here?"

"Mm, I don't know. How did you find me?"

Louisa looked at him, noticing his cheeks were wet and his eyes red. "Martin, were you crying?"

He quickly turned his head away from her and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Mm, no." He cleared his throat. "The, um, wind. It was making my eyes water, that's all."

Louisa shifted closer to him. She knew he was lying but decided it was best not to press him about it. "Do you want to talk?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"No, not really." He took hold of her other hand and laced their fingers together. They sat in silence for a few moments until Martin spoke up. "I miss her," he said finally.

"Miss who?"

"Joan."

Louisa let out a quiet sigh. "Oh, Martin." She moved her arm to encircle his waist. "I miss her, too. Is that what this is all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"This . . . distance between us. The stress you're under. How you seem to be miles away."

"I don't know. I miss her because she's not here to see how happy you and James make me . . . To see how much I love you. She's not here when she should be!" He buried his face in his arms and Louisa pulled him to her.

"Martin, it'll be alright," Louisa said softly as she held her crumbling husband.

After a few minutes, the trembling of his shoulders subsided and Martin picked his head up and wiped at his watering eyes. He continued to cling to Louisa, who didn't mind having to console him. She ran her fingers through his hair as she said, "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone before?"

"Yes."

"It was after you pointed out my bad breath when we kissed for the first time in that taxi. It was a dream actually, but it started out with you and me sitting right about where we are now, except it was summer then. We were having a picnic and you were telling me a story about a finch when you stopped and just stared at me; the way you do when I know you love me. You were going to kiss me but the cliff began to split in two and I almost fell to my death, except you saved me, Martin."

"And the point of your dream would be?"

Louisa smiled at his wry remark. "My point is that you were there for me when I needed saving, even though it was a dream . . . But I want to be there for you, Martin. I am here. I always will be."

He turned to look at her. Her ponytail waved in the breeze as she waited for him to say something. "Thank you, Louisa . . . for telling me that."

She caressed his cheek with her thumb then leaned over and kissed him. "Can we go home now? It's getting cold out."

He squeezed her hand and stood up, helping her to her feet in the process. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. "Do you think Auntie Joan would be pleased . . . erm, proud of me?" he asked as they both looked out over the cliffs.

Louisa didn't hesitate. "Yes, Martin, she would be."

"Mm."

Louisa looked up at her husband. He seemed a bit more relaxed - less on edge. Maybe all the grief he had held deep inside since Joan's death was finally making its way to the surface? "We should get back to the surgery. I'm sure your patients won't be too happy that you skipped out on them."

"Mm, yes. When are the citizens of Portwenn ever not angry with me?"

"Oh, Mar-tin!"

"What? It's true."

Louisa shook her head as they turned back to the footpath hand in hand. She clung to his side as they made their way back home.

. . .

Martin was in the middle of tying his tie when Louisa appeared behind him in the wardrobe mirror with James perched on her hip. "Yes?"

"Are you about ready to head out?"

He finished his windsor knot then slipped on a newly dry cleaned jacket. "Yes," he said, straightening the sleeves and plucking at a piece of lint. He turned around to find her smiling at him. "What?"

Louisa reached up and smoothed the hair above his ear. "Nothing. You just look very handsome, is all."

Martin turned his head away in embarrassment. "Mm."

"Da!" James squealed, reaching out for his father.

Martin tickled his son behind the ear, causing the boy to erupt in a fit of giggles. "Are we brining James along?"

"Well of course. Why not?"

Martin cleared his throat. "I just thought that since we'll be eating out he might be a little fussy."

Louisa shifted a heavy James in her arms and combed her fingers through his hair. "He's usually very well behaved, aren't you, James?" She smiled down at their little boy before looking back at Martin. "Anyway, I'm hoping he'll be able to fall asleep on the way home; make putting him to bed easier now that he's getting older."

"I see. Shall we go?"

"Yeah. I just want to make sure my hair's okay first." She handed James over to Martin then moved towards the bathroom.

"Louisa, your hair is fine. You look . . ." He let his eyes gaze over her feminine form as she sauntered to the bathroom. ". . . very beautiful."

Louisa stopped at his kind words. "Thank you, Martin," she said before disappearing through the doorway. A minute later she returned and slipped on her coat, buttoning it as she followed Martin down the stairs.

The drive to Wadebridge was fairly silent, except for the happy gurgles from James, who was fascinated at the scenery that passed them by. Louisa looked over at her husband as he concentrated on his driving. She placed a tentative hand on his left thigh to get his attention. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Martin quickly glanced at her then looked back at the road. "Yes, of course."

"Oh. Good. I was just making sure everything was alright. You know, since our little talk up on the cliffs earlier."

Martin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm fine, Louisa - really. I just don't want to talk about it anymore. Can we please leave it at that?"

Louisa turned her gaze out the car window. "Since you asked nicely - yes, I'll leave it be."

Martin relaxed his grip a little and leaned back in his seat. "Thank you."

Martin and Louisa were able to find what they needed at one of the children's shops. They ended up purchasing more than they needed thanks to Louisa, who couldn't help but get James a few more outfits that she found absolutely adorable. And when they walked through the toy section, James shrieked and clapped at a loud and flashing toy he saw. Martin refused to buy James anything too loud or non-educational, but James didn't agree. The young Ellingham started to cry and kick his legs at his father, demanding that he have that fun-looking contraption. Much to Martin's chagrin and Louisa's repeated insistence, he bought James the toy.

"James Henry Ellingham," Louisa addressed her son as they returned to the Lexus with their purchases. "You had better be on your best behaviour for your daddy, young man. He really didn't want to buy you that toy, but luckily, Daddy has a soft spot for you."

"Da!" James shouted then reached for his new toy.

Louisa ran her fingers through her son's hair after she finished buckling him into his car seat. "Not until we get home."

James seemed to understand his mother, and his happy smile was quickly replaced with a pouting frown. "That's right, James," Martin said, looking into the rear view mirror as he fastened his seatbelt. "You'll have to wait I'm afraid."

After many back and forth arguments over a suitable restaurant, Martin finally agreed to a small establishment that favoured the local seafood and traditional English cuisine.

As their waitress left them to peruse their menus, Martin seemed transfixed as he stared down at the tablecloth. "Something wrong, Martin?" Louisa asked him, putting a hand on his wrist.

Martin looked up at her, startled. "Uh, no."

Louisa eyed him speculatively then turned her attention to James, who was scribbling away on some paper with the crayons she brought with them. "What are you working on there, James?"

The boy looked at his mother then at Martin. "Da!" he shouted, waving his arms and accidentally sending his crayon flying across the table.

"James Henry!" Martin exclaimed, not happy with his son's behaviour. "We do not throw things at the dinner table!"

James started to cry at hearing his father's raised voice. "Mar-tin!" Louisa hissed. "Keep your voice down. We're in a restaurant." She turned to her son and stroked his arms and face in an effort to console him. "It's okay, James. Daddy didn't mean it, did he?" She glared across the table at her husband.

Martin looked from his angry wife to his unhappy son. "No," he sighed, "I'm sorry, James. I don't know what came over me." He leaned over in his chair and picked up the lone blue crayon from the floor then handed it to his son.

Once they placed their dinner orders, Martin excused himself to the lavatory. When he returned Louisa gazed at him with a softened expression. "You okay?"

He sat down and draped his napkin over his lap. "Yes."

"Look." Louisa handed him a piece of paper that James had been drawing on. "James drew this for you."

Martin looked down at the paper filled with scraggly coloured lines. He refrained from making a comment that would no doubt upset Louisa. "Thank you," he said, folding the paper and placing it in the left breast pocket of his suit.

The tension at the table had lightened once their meal arrived. Martin remained quiet as he picked at his un-buttered monkfish.

"Your birthday's coming up next month," Louisa said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" Martin looked up from his plate. "Oh, right."

"Was there anything special you wanted to do?" She gave him a bright smile, hoping it might penetrate her husband's moodiness.

"I really haven't given it much thought."

Louisa ate another spoonful of her soup. "Well if you think of anything you'll let me know, won't you?"

Martin let out a long sigh. "Louisa, I don't see the need to make a big deal about my birthday. I'm not a child anymore. I'm a grown man. I don't need a birthday party or some lavish get together with the entire village of Portwenn."

Louisa set down her spoon and took a deep breath. "I wasn't suggesting a party, Martin. Just something that you'd like to do - the three of us - to celebrate your birthday. Because if you don't think of anything, I will. Okay?"

Martin scowled down at his fish. "Yes. Fine."

"Good."

. . .

When they arrived back to Portwenn, James was sound asleep in his car seat. "I'll get the shopping," Martin insisted as he stepped out of the Lexus.

Louisa pulled James out of his seat and unlocked the front door, holding it open for Martin. "I'll just get him to bed," she said, taking a sleepy James up the stairs.

After putting James to bed, Louisa stepped out on the landing at the top of the stairs to find Martin at the bottom putting the safety gate into place. "Oh, you're very good at that," she said, coming down to meet him at the bottom step.

He looked up from his work with the screwdriver. "Mm, like I said, it's not difficult - if you follow the instructions." Tightening the last screw of the gate into place, Martin tested the device. He opened and closed the gate smoothly then made sure it was snug against the wall and the railing. "Now the top."

"Do you need any help?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so."

"Oh. Ok. Well I was going to pour myself a glass of wine. Fancy joining me when you're done?"

"Um, yes. Not the wine, of course . . ."

Louisa smiled at him. She wondered if she'd ever get him to drink again since that night years ago. Probably not, she thought to herself.

"All done?" she asked once he sat down next to her on the sofa some time later.

"Yes."

Louisa handed Martin her glass of wine so she could make herself more comfortable. She cuddled up to his side and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "This is nice," she said, taking her glass from his hand.

"Mm," Martin grunted.

"You know what would be romantic?" Louisa said as she played with the button on his jacket.

"Hmm? What?"

"A fireplace."

"A fireplace? What for?" Martin looked down at her, perplexed.

Louisa smiled up at him. Sometimes she adored his obliviousness when it came to mainstream ideas, other times she found it exasperating. But he looked at her with such innocence that she could picture James Henry with the same expression in a few years' time. "Because, Martin, a warm, blazing fire is just romantic. Like when we were at the lodge for our honeymoon, remember?"

"Ah, yes, of course."

"I really thought that night was going to be special - our first night together as husband and wife, but . . ."

Martin absently rubbed her shoulder with his thumb as he stared unknowingly at a picture on the wall. "I'm sorry, Louisa." He paused and looked down at her. "I wanted it to be special too. You were so beautiful on our wedding day, Louisa."

She smiled up at him. "Martin . . ."

"You were - and you still are the most beautiful woman - in my eyes, that is."

Louisa took a drink of her wine then set the glass down on the coffee table. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him. "I adore you, Martin Ellingham."

" _Adore_?" Martin grimaced at the word.

"That's right. For a man who can be quite rude and abrasive, he sure knows how to woo his wife."

"What? Louisa, I think all the wine you've had has gone to your head."

Louisa laughed and pulled back to look at him. "Don't be silly, Martin. I only had the one glass at dinner and half of one now."

He opened his mouth to say something more but Louisa prevented the words from spilling out by kissing him. She felt him relax against her and deepened their embrace. Reaching out, she loosened his tie and Martin pulled away.

"Louisa," he stammered, "I think . . ." He lost his train of thought as his wife took his hand and yanked him to his feet.

The only light in the room was from a lamp on a side table, giving off a subdued glow. And when Louisa looked up at him, he noticed her dilated pupils. "You think what, Martin?"

He remained enchanted by her dark eyes. "That we should go upstairs."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Martin turned off the lamp, sending the house into darkness. He took hold of Louisa's hand and led her as best he could towards the stairs. "Ow! Bugger!" Martin exclaimed and an audible thud could be heard.

"Oh, Martin! The safety gate!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry, again for the long delay. This chapter is a long one because you guys have been so patient with me. I greatly appreciate all the kind feedback and generous praise for my story - you keep me motivated to write!**

Chapter Nine

A gust of wind splattering rain against the window panes woke Martin early Saturday morning. It was still dark out and he could hear the waves as they tumbled against the rocky cliffs of the harbour. The walls of the cottage creaked in protest to the howling wind. Martin turned away from the window to face Louisa. She was curled up under the sheets and the thick blanket they used for the winter. Her back was to him, but Martin shifted himself closer to her. Feeling the heat emanating from her body, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and closed his eyes, surrendering back to sleep.

An hour or two later, he wasn't quite sure which, Martin was awakened by an incessant coughing. He curled his lip in annoyance as the noise grew worse. He heard the flush of the toilet and a moment later Louisa appeared by his side of the bed. She was in her thick, light pink terry cloth robe looking like the life had been sucked out of her. "Louisa, are you feeling alright?" Martin asked as he stood up from the bed.

Louisa turned her head and coughed into the crook of her arm, letting out a sneeze afterwards. She cleared her throat. "I'm fine. Just a little bug- it'll pass."

He towered over her and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "Doesn't sound like a _little_ bug to me. You might have a temperature. What were you doing in the bathroom?"

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you think, Martin?"

"Mm." He watched her blow her nose, with unnecessary loudness, then deposit the tissue into the pocket of her robe. He scrunched his face in disgust. "Louisa you should go back to bed."

She didn't seem to hear him. She continued past him towards the bedroom door. Martin reached out and touched her shoulder. "What?" she said, irritation evident in her voice.

"You're presenting with cold and flu symptoms. You need to rest, Louisa. I'll get James. You shouldn't expose him to any of the pathogens you may be harbouring."

"Fine." Louisa sank back into the bed and turned to face him. "Are you happy now? Do you think I _wanted_ to wake up like this?"

Martin's eyes darted back and forth, unsure of how to answer her. "Um, no. But obviously somewhere you lacked the adequate hygiene to remain pathogen-free. Either not washing your hands properly or, um, touching something infested with bacteria. The list goes on."

Louisa tilted her head at him. "Oh, does it," she said in a clipped tone. "Well, thank you, _Doctor,_ for pointing out the errors of my ways."

Martin grunted then ducked his head. "I, um, wasn't criticising-"

"Yes, Martin, I know. You were just stating the facts, like you always do."

Martin straightened his back and furrowed his brow. "Now what's that supposed to mean? _Like you always do?"_

"It's not important, Martin." Louisa yawned then let out a string of continuous sneezes.

He continued to frown as her statement peaked his interest. "Just - stay there. I'll grab the thermometer and start the tea. Then I'll take care of James."

Louisa coughed then cleared her throat. "Thank you, Martin," she said as he turned and left the bedroom.

Martin removed the thermometer from Louisa's ear once it made the beeping sound to signal it was finished recording its measurement. "You're febrile," he said, laying the device down on his bedside table. "Were you nauseous when you woke up this morning?"

Louisa nodded. "And my throat. It's pretty sore."

Martin reached up with both hands and felt the underside of her jaw and chin. "Yep. Your lymph nodes are swollen." He moved away from the bed to wash his hands in the bathroom sink.

"So, what's that mean exactly?" Louisa asked.

"Swollen lymph nodes, especially in the neck, usually results from an infection, mainly strep throat."

"Is that what I have? Strep throat?"

He returned from the bathroom and sat down at the foot of the bed. He placed his hand on the blankets covering her legs. "I'd have to do a test to be sure. I can have Morwenna run the sample over to Truro if she's available. But your persistent cough and sneezing sounds more like the flu."

"But what about my swollen lymph nodes?" Self-consciously, Louisa put a hand to her neck.

"The lymph nodes swell when they're inflamed due to an infection. But in your case it may not be streptococcal bacteria."

"Oh."

"Mm. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Martin returned with a mug of tea and a metal tray of supplies. "Don't drink that just yet." He indicated the cup of tea. "I need to swab your throat first." Martin carefully rubbed the back of Louisa's throat with a cotton swab then placed the sample in a sterile container. "I put a few teaspoons of honey in your tea. It should help with the sore throat. I'll also step out and get you some nasal decongestants from Mrs. Tishell if you need it."

Louisa smiled at him. She took hold of his hand. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm. Um, James, I should get him up, then breakfast. Are you hungry at all?"

Louisa shook her head. "Not at the moment."

"Right. Well, um, stay in bed and rest. Keep hydrated - I'll get you a glass of water in a minute."

He started cleaning up his medical supplies when Louisa moved her hand to his arm, effectively stalling his movements. "You don't have to fuss over me, Martin. It's probably just the flu. You said it's been going around the village. I probably picked it up at the school."

Martin looked down at the test tube containing Louisa's throat sample. "Yes. Well you can never be too careful. You're my patient . . . and you're my wife. I have a duty of care . . . to both."

Louisa softened at his words. My extraordinary man, she wanted to say, but knew he'd only feel embarrassed by it. "You know what's funny?"

"Mm. What?"

"You examined me and you're still in your pyjamas."

"Oh." He looked down at his attire. "I haven't had time to change yet. You, um . . ."

Just then, James Henry informed his parents that he no longer wanted to remain in his cot. The child's cries could be heard loud and clear through the baby monitor on Louisa's nightstand. "Mm, excuse me," Martin said before quickly heading across the hall to tend to their son.

"Now, James," Martin addressed the boy as he settled him into his high chair, freshly changed and dressed. "Your mother isn't feeling well, I'm afraid. And we can't have you picking up her germs so you'll be stuck with me for a few days. But don't worry, we're going to have plenty of fun together." Martin turned to the cooker and cracked a couple of eggs into a pan then started his espresso machine.

James watched in fascination as his father moved swiftly about the kitchen. He began to babble in order to gain some attention. As Martin began placing plates and utensils on the table, James had his eyes set on a shiny-looking fork. He leaned forward as far as the high chair tray would allow but couldn't reach the stainless-steel utensil. He started to whimper and slapped his hands down on his tray.

Martin turned around at the commotion his son was stirring up. "What, James?" The child looked up at his father with tear-filled eyes. "You're hungry, I know. Just be patient." He finished at the cooker then turned and placed a spoonful of scrambled eggs into James' bowl. "There." He handed his son his bowl and screwed the lid of his cup of milk shut then placed it on the tray next to his eggs. "Be a good boy and eat your breakfast, James. I'll be right back." He finished putting together a plate for Louisa then left the kitchen.

Louisa was engrossed in a novel when she heard her husband's heavy footsteps come up the stairs. "Martin? You didn't have to bring me breakfast," she said as he set the plate down on her nightstand.

"Mm. I know you said you weren't hungry, but you should eat something. Toast at least. The starch in the bread absorbs stomach acid . . . It'll help curb your nausea."

She smiled at him. "Martin . . ."

"What?"

She patted the bed and he sat down by her feet. "Nothing. I just - you don't have to do all this. I'm fairly capable of taking care of myself."

"Yes, I know. But I want to. I've been thinking . . . and I know I've said it before, but I want to be a better husband, Louisa. You deserve hearts and flowers and no matter what I do, I always seem to muck things up between us. But this . . . patient care - medicine. It's what I know best and I want the best possible care for you."

"I know you do, Martin. And I love that you're so attentive about my health, even though sometimes it can be a bit much. You _are_ a good husband, Martin . . . and a loving father. James and I are lucky to have you."

Martin ducked his head at her compliments. He didn't think he was a very good husband or the most playful parent, but he was doing his best to be better at both. "Um, really?"

"Yes. There's no one I'd rather be with than you."

Martin swallowed over the lump in his throat. "You're the best part of my life, Louisa - you and James."

Louisa reached up and touched his cheek. "What?" she said as she watched him grimace and twist away from her.

"Mm. It's just - you touched me and you're um, full of germs." He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out his handkerchief then wiped his cheek.

"Sorry."

"Mm. It's alright."

Louisa continued to smile at him but it soon faded as she wondered about her son. "Martin? Did you leave James downstairs by himself?"

"Hmm? Yes . . ." He stared back at her for a moment until the realisation dawned on him. He quickly left the bedroom and practically ran down the stairs. He could hear the metallic _clunk_ _clunk_ as metal made contact with the wooden table, followed by his son's laughter.

Upon entering the kitchen, Martin found his son happily banging a fork and spoon against the surface of the table. Strings of syllables and nonsense escaped the child's mouth as he laughed and squealed along to the "rhythm" he was creating.

"James Henry!" Martin exclaimed, trying to keep his voice within a reasonable decibel. He took away the utensils and placed them in the sink. As he turned around, he tripped over his son's breakfast bowl, smearing what was left of the scrambled eggs onto his polished shoes. He caught his balance on the edge of the countertop and let a hiss of air escape his nose. He looked up and met James' perplexed expression. He had his fingers in his mouth and Martin noticed some stray pieces of scrambled egg in his son's hair.

Martin took a deep breath, trying to calm his building frustration. He picked up the bowl from the floor and set it in the sink, then used a tea towel to wipe his shoes clean. All the while, James relinquished his fingers from his mouth and let out a giggle.

Martin glanced up at his son from his bent position on the floor. "It isn't funny, James. Your breakfast doesn't belong on the floor." He stood up and picked the pieces of egg from the boy's hair. "You're going to need a bath, young man. And a fresh set of clothes." He handed James his cup of milk, which had been lying on its side on the other end of the table.

"Da-da!" James shouted in quick succession.

"Mm." As Martin looked down at his son, he feared how he was going to make it through the next forty-eight hours without Louisa's help. He would have called on Janice, their childminder, but she wasn't scheduled to care for James on the weekends. And his aunt Ruth wasn't the most maternal of women. He was left on his own.

He quickly called Morwenna and asked if she was available to run a patient's sample over to the hospital lab in Truro. She was reluctant, but agreed once she was informed that it was Louisa's sample that needed to be analysed. He placed the phone in the reception room back in its cradle then headed back to the kitchen to tend to James.

With nothing in his reach, James was restless as he waited for his father to return. The boy smiled at Martin when his bright, curious eyes set on him as he entered the kitchen from under the stairs. James raised his arms, wanting out of his high chair. "Up!" he managed to get out, though it sounded more like a hiccup than a word.

Martin picked James up and the child settled against his chest. "Don't get too comfortable, James," Martin said as he walked towards the stairs. "We have a mandatory bath scheduled."

Louisa was still in bed, now working through some of the schoolwork she had Martin bring her. She smiled as she listened to her husband and son. The bathroom door was closed, but the crooked wooden planks let enough sound to come through that she was able to hear their hushed conversation.

". . . No, James, the shampoo belongs in your hair not your mouth. That can be cytotoxic if you swallow it, not to mention the unpleasant taste."

"Everything okay in there?" Louisa rasped out. Her voice was waning from all the coughing she had been doing.

"Uh, we're fine," Martin replied back.

Louisa heard a splash and a grunt from her husband, followed by a squeal from James. She stifled a laugh as she pictured Martin's stern expression at being splashed by their son.

Ten minutes later her two men exited the bathroom. James was tucked into a towel and the front of Martin's shirt and his tie was soaked through with bath water. "I see you two had some fun, then, hmm?" Louisa said as she looked up from her schoolwork.

"Mm, yes. It seems someone's in a cheeky mood today."

"He's just excited he gets to spend all day with you, Martin."

"Ma! Mum!" James cried out as he looked down at Louisa from his perch in Martin's arms.

"No, James. I'm sorry, but I can't let you get close to your mother," Martin explained. "She's very ill and we can't have you catching it."

Louisa's face fell as she watched her son squirm impatiently. "Oh, Martin. Can't he just lay down next to me?"

Martin shook his head. "No. Sorry, Louisa. If he was older it wouldn't be an issue, but he's less than eighteen months old. His immune system isn't strong enough yet. And you should be resting."

Louisa blew out a breath and turned back to her paperwork. "Well I'm not tired."

Martin sighed and retreated to the nursery across the hall with James. Once he finished dressing James in a fresh set of clothes, Martin sat down in the rocking chair in the far corner of the room, leaving his son to wander. He watched in rapt fascination as James toddled about. Every once and a while he'd fall but pull himself back up just as quickly.

Taking hold of a book from a pile next to his cot, James walked back to his father. "A story?" Martin asked as he accepted the book from his son. James gave him a toothy grin and clapped his hands.

Martin looked down at the children's book and scowled. He didn't know why books that were so inaccurate could be educational for children. Apparently Louisa thought it would be beneficial for James. He looked down when he felt a tug on the legs of his trousers. Martin lifted James on to his lap and the boy cuddled up in the crook of his father's right arm.

He opened the book to the first page and muttered, "Oh, God." James laughed at the frown that continued to spread across Martin's face. As Martin began reading, the boy listened intently to his father's low, soothing voice. The resonance soon put him to sleep.

Martin stopped reading when he felt James' breathing start to slow and even out. He looked down at his son, who was fast asleep in his arms. He studied the boy's relaxed features and could see some of Louisa in him: his perfectly proportioned nose, small ears, the arch of his eyebrows. But his eyes and cheekbones were Martin's. He brushed his fingers over James' hair, feeling its softness from his bath.

"Doc!"

Martin heard the front door of the cottage bang shut, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. Morwenna's voice reverberated up the stairs and James stirred in his arms. He carefully stood and shifted James up against his shoulder before making his way downstairs.

"Doc!" Morwenna said once more as she stood in the reception room.

"Shh!" Martin hissed at her as he gestured to a sleeping James.

"Isn't it a bit early for a nap?" Morwenna smiled as she toyed with a strand of James' hair. "What happened to you?" She pointed at the fading water stain on his shirt and tie, which was peeking out from behind his jacket.

"Mm. We had an exciting morning of sorts."

"Ah. So where's the sample you need me to drop off?"

"On my desk." He retrieved the plastic bag containing the sealed test tube and handed it over to Morwenna when he returned.

"How is Louisa, if you don't mind me asking?"

Martin cleared his throat. "Um, I can't discuss my patients."

Morwenna nodded. "Of course. Was worth a try anyway."

"She'll be better in a few days or so if that's what you wanted to know."

The receptionist awkwardly looked down at the plastic bag in her hands then back up at Martin. "Right. So Al agreed to give me a lift. I'll let the professionals in Truro know you want the results as soon as possible."

"Mm, thank you, Morwenna."

"No problem, Doc. Anything for you and Louisa." She tickled James behind his ear, causing him to startle awake. He let out a whimper at being disturbed. "Oops, sorry, James! I didn't mean ta wake ya."

Martin let out a quiet grunt as he shifted James in his arms. "That'll be all, Morwenna."

"Right. I'll see you Monday morning."

"Yes."

Martin waited for the young girl to leave before addressing James. "Sorry about that. She can be a bit loud sometimes, can't she?" James covered his ears with his hands and Martin smiled, knowing that his son understood what he was saying. "Shall we say hello to your mother? Then maybe go for a walk?"

"Mum!" James squealed.

Upstairs, Martin knocked on their bedroom door and waited for a response.

"Yeah, come in, Martin," his wife answered hoarsely.

He walked over to his side of the bed and reached over to feel her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

Louisa cleared the phlegm from her throat and replied, "Not much better. I feel like I'm getting worse."

James squirmed, reaching out for his mother. Louisa smiled at him and with all her might, refrained from touching him.

"What do you mean worse?"

"The nausea. It won't seem to stop. I ate the toast but it isn't helping. Was that Morwenna I heard downstairs?"

"Mm, yes. She's delivering your throat sample to the hospital in Truro. Just give it some time. The nausea should pass. If not I can draw some blood to rule out anything serious. But I wouldn't worry about it at this stage."

Louisa nodded. "So what have you two been up to?"

"Well, um, after James' bath we read a book, and now we're thinking about talking a walk."

Louisa sneezed loudly, triggering another coughing spell. "Sounds like fun."

"Mm. I'll stop at the Chemist's and get you some decongestants. You should try to rest, Louisa, even if you don't feel tired. The body needs time to heal and fight the infection. The less you exert yourself, the better."

"Yes, I know. But it's so boring. Being stuck in bed all day. I really wish we had a television up here."

"Rubbish," Martin said, scrunching his nose.

"Well you may not enjoy watching the telly, but I do."

Martin furrowed his brow. "You've never mentioned that before."

Louisa sighed. "Because I know how disapproving you find watching television that I didn't think it was necessary to say so."

"What?"

"Never mind. I have my book to keep me company." She tapped her fingers on the glossy cover of her novel.

Martin grunted. "Well if you must watch something, I'll leave my laptop for you to use. But wash your hands before you touch any of the the keys."

Louisa brightened a bit. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm, you're welcome."

Once the rainstorm had finally passed, Martin and James ventured out into the crisp, early winter air. The sun was hidden behind thick, gray clouds, and the streets were fairly empty of pedestrians and tourists. They passed the fishmonger's stand and Martin made a mental note to stop back later to see what he had available.

As Martin pushed James across the Platt, Buddy seemed to appear out of nowhere, like he usually did. It was uncanny how the dog could find Martin so quickly. Martin curled his lip in annoyance as the dog kept up to his quickening pace. "Oh, no, no! Go away!" Martin shouted as Buddy tried jumping to get a better view of James in his pushchair.

James laughed as the furry canine jumped and nuzzled at his dangling feet.

"Oh, hiya, Doc!" Joe Penhale announced in his chipper greeting as he came into step beside Martin. "I see you found your shadow again."

"What?" Martin turned to face the constable. "What do you mean _shadow?_ "

Penhale pointed to Buddy. "Portwenn's very own police canine."

"Well if he's part of the police force, then maybe you could train him to leave me alone."

"No can do, Doc. He helped us find you when you went missing. You know, by that looney woman and her manic son." He twirled his finger in a circle by his temple.

Martin eyed the eccentric policeman. "Mm. Yes. I'm very grateful," he deadpanned.

Penhale chuckled. "Never know if something like that will happen again, eh?"

Martin did his best to ignore the rambling constable and stopped walking once he reached the pharmacy. He could still feel Penhale's presence behind his shoulder. "Was there something else you wish to discuss, Penhale?"

Joe moved around the front of the pushchair to look at James. "Oh, he's getting so big. Hello _James Henry_ ," he said in a terrible posh accent, "how are _you_ today?"

Martin frowned. "He, um, can't answer you. He hasn't learned to speak full sentences yet."

"Oh, right. Bet he's gonna be just as smart as you though, Doc. Reckon he'll grow up to be a doctor like you?"

"Mm, I don't know. If you don't mind, Penhale, I have things I need to do." He reached for the door handle of the pharmacy, but Penhale beat him to it.

"Let me get that for you, Doc." He held the door open for Martin.

"Mm, thank you." Martin averted his eyes from the smiling policeman as he wheeled James through the doorway.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham! What a surpise!" Mrs. Tishell gushed as the ringing bell above the door alerted her of his presence. "Ooh, and little James too!" She came around the counter and crouched down to the boy's level. "My you're getting big, aren't you," she cooed, tickling his rosy cheek. "You're just as handsome as your daddy. Yes you are."

Martin scrunched his nose at the pharmacist's gushing praises. "I need some nasal decongestants, as well as some fine suture packs and large dressings."

Mrs. Tishell turned her attention to her favourite customer. "Yes, of course. Right away, Dr. Ellingham. I'll just be a minute." She moved behind the counter and began gathering the items he requested.

Martin watched her warily, the counter being the only barrier between them. Though she claimed to still be in love with her husband, Martin couldn't help but continue to feel uneasy around her.

"Here we are," she announced, placing his requested items in a bag on the glass countertop.

Martin quickly picked up the paper bag before the woman could start her nattering over their shared profession. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll um stop by next week and settle my monthly bill."

"Yes of course. I'll be waiting." Mrs. Tishell gave him a coquettish smile as she played with the top button of her cardigan.

Martin grunted and looked away. "Mm, goodbye, Mrs. Tishell."

"Goodbye, Dr. Ellingham . . . and Master Ellingham!"

Martin tucked his purchases in the basket connected to the underside of the pushchair. He manouevered James out of the pharmacy and was met with a strong gust of wind. James cried out at the sudden cold and Martin stopped to adjust his son's jacket and little woolen cap. He pulled out his fleece gloves from his overcoat and slipped them on. It was a colder day than usual in late November and the thick clouds only added to the lack of warmth.

He stopped back at the fishmonger's and looked at the remaining catch of the day. "Do you have anything else besides cod?" Martin asked the fisherman.

"Got some nice lobsters 'ere, Doc," the fisherman said as he gestured to a bucket filled with the crustaceans.

"Mm. You don't have anything else? Pollock, monkfish?"

"Hmm. Oh yeah, here we are." The fisherman pulled out a large fillet of monkfish from the ice of his display case.

Martin looked over the fillet carefully. "Yes, that'll do." He pulled out his wallet and handed the fisherman a five pound note.

As he watched the fisherman wrap his fish in newspaper, Martin did a quick mental inventory of their pantry and refrigerator at home. He was certain he didn't need to pick up anything else.

"Here you go, Doc."

Martin took the wrapped fish and placed it next to his purchases from the pharmacy. "Mm, yes. Thank you."

"Anything else?" The fisherman gave him a gap-toothed grin.

"No. Goodbye." Martin turned away and began the slow trek to the surgery.

After putting away his purchases, Martin took James upstairs, hoping he'd go down for a nap. He laid the boy in his cot and tucked his blankets around him.

James stared up at his father with curious eyes. Martin brushed his fingers along his son's jawline and the boy laughed, kicking at his blankets.

"Shh, go to sleep, James," Martin said in a gentle tone. James stopped kicking his legs and settled himself amongst his askew blankets and stuffed animals. Martin turned to leave and James started to cry. Turning around, he moved and sat down in the rocking chair, positioning himself next to the cot. James turned his head towards his father and cried, "Da!"

Martin smiled as he watched James squirm, trying to get comfortable. It was the first time he'd spent an entire morning with just his son. And he found he quite enjoyed it. It was a relaxing reprieve from the drama and stupidity many of his patients exhibited, minus their little mishap at breakfast. As much as he enjoyed his alone time with James, he just wished Louisa was well enough to take part in these little moments. Because her happiness was what he strived for.

Once James was finally asleep, Martin left the nursery, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way to their bedroom across the hall and found Louisa sound asleep as well. His laptop was open and sitting at the foot of the bed. He closed the screen and set the computer on his nightstand. Moving around to her side, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. She was still warm, but a little cooler since this morning when she first woke up. He let his fingers travel down her cheek. Even with the flu, she was still as beautiful as ever.

His gaze shifted to the crook of her neck, and he brushed his thumb across the faint scar from where he performed her operation. It was a constant reminder of the brittle state their marriage was in; a time where he wished he wasn't so caught up in the return of his blood phobia that he could have seen the signs of his wife's unhappiness. But she was here now - where she was meant to be.

"I'm sorry I didn't see your unhappiness before, Louisa," he whispered to her, kneeling by the bed. "If I could go back, I would have paid more attention to you; been more cooperative at Sport's Day, and maybe prevented your accident. It was my blood phobia that caused me to shut down - not you. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it. But I promise to be there for you from now on, because I don't want to lose you again."

He pulled the blankets and sheets up to her chin and disposed of the tissue that was clutched in her hand. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. "Love you."

Louisa's eyes fluttered open. "Martin?"

Martin's eyes grew wide and a flush spread out across his cheeks, worried that she might have heard him. "Mm, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's alright. Where's James?"

"Asleep. Our walk tired him out. Um, I got you some nasal decongestants. They're in the bathroom. I can get you one if you need it."

"Thank you, Martin. Maybe later."

"Mm. Um, how are you feeling? Any better?"

Louisa reached for a tissue and blew her nose. "Mm, not really."

"It's possible you might be anemic again, which is probably making you feel much more worse than it is. It takes longer for an anemic patient to fight infections."

"I see."

"Mm, I'll keep an eye on you."

Louisa smiled at him. "I know you will. Thank you for taking care of me."

"You're my patient." He covered her hand with his own. "And you're my wife."

"Do you think I could get up and go downstairs for a bit? My legs are getting restless."

"Yes." Martin helped her out of bed and handed over her robe.

"Would it be alright if I checked on James?"

"Um, yes, just don't get too close."

"I'll be careful." She gave his hand a squeeze and left the room.

As Martin descended the stairs, the phone in the reception room rang. He hurried down the last few steps and picked up the phone. After his brief conversation with one of the technicians at the hospital lab in Truro, Martin went back upstairs to relay the results to Louisa.

He found her still in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, watching James as he slept. She looked up as he stood in the doorway.

"The lab from the hospital in Truro phoned with your test results," he said.

"Oh? And what's the diagnosis, Doctor?" She gave him a bright, playful smile.

"Good news actually. The strep test was negative. It's just the flu. But with your possible anemia, the infection might be prolonged."

"Oh. My anemia, will I always have it? You know, here and there, for the rest of my life?"

Martin shook his head. "No, not necessarily. An increase of iron into your diet will help. It's more common in women than men. But I wouldn't worry about it."

"Hmm." Louisa thought for a moment. "You could always bring me some yams. They're a good source of iron, aren't they?"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Martin's mouth. "Mm, yes. Plus they contain a good amount of vitamin C, so it'll help your immune system fight the infection."

Louisa kept reminiscing about their dinner date a few years back where he brought her yams instead of the flowers she had expected. At the time she thought it was quirky - unusual, but now she realised that he was just looking out for her health, like he always was.

She slowly stood up from the rocking chair. "Could you make me some tea, Martin?"

"Yes, of course." He moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the stairs. "Do you feel like eating? Or is your stomach still upset?"

Louisa coughed into her arm. "I don't feel very hungry. Maybe just some cereal though."

"Whatever you want."

. . .

Sunday occurred much as Saturday did. Louisa was still fighting her battle with the flu and come Monday morning, Martin insisted she stay home from work.

"But, Martin," Louisa began as she lay in bed while he dressed, "I need to be at the school. I'm supposed to be going through the CV's of potential candidates for the teaching position we have open."

Martin stalled his movements at tying his tie. "Louisa," he said, turning to face her, "I'd prefer it if you stayed at home and rest."

"Yes, I know you would. But my cough is gone. And the nausea has passed. I'm really feeling a lot better."

"Yes, but you still harbour the virus. And a school is a petri dish waiting to be infested with cultures of bacteria. I strongly advise that you stay at home. I'm sure they'll manage at least one day without you. They did while you were away in Spain."

Louisa narrowed her eyes and glared at her husband's back as he resumed tying his tie. "That was uncalled for, Martin. I had a legitimate reason for leaving."

"Yes, and I'm sure the weather was lovely, considering it took you over a week to call me."

"Mar-tin. I am not getting into a row with you about events that happened months ago."

Buttoning his jacket, Martin turned around to face her. "Fine."

"Fine." Louisa crossed her arms and looked towards the window.

"I'll get breakfast started and take care of James."

Louisa continued to avoid eye contact with him. "Yes."

Martin was in the middle of feeding James when Louisa entered the kitchen, going straight for the kettle. "Thank you for starting the kettle," she said as she poured the steaming water into a mug then rummaged around for a teabag.

Martin looked at her warily. Louisa tended to overact and become emotional at times, and her moodiness today, partly aided by her illness, had Martin on edge. He wiped James' face and set down the child's bowl. "I'm sorry about my comment earlier. You were right. It was uncalled for."

Louisa looked up from her work at preparing her tea. She cracked a brief smile. "Thank you, Martin. I'm sorry too, for snapping at you. And I suppose you're right. I should stay home, at least for one more day."

Martin glanced down at the table. "Um, I'll speak to Morwenna about it, but if you need anything, I'll have her help you."

"Thank you, Martin."

"Mm." He turned away and finished feeding James.

Louisa sat down across from him with her cup of tea. She smiled as she watched the interaction between her husband and son. Despite his reluctance at being a father when James was a newborn, he was gradually becoming more comfortable and natural with the role. And James adored him, that was obvious.

"Doc?" came Morwenna's hesitant voice as she appeared in the entryway of the kitchen.

Martin turned to face his receptionist. "Yes?"

"Your first patient's here."

He looked at his watch. "What, already?"

Morwenna nodded. "Yep. Chippy Miller."

"God." Martin scowled. The fisherman has had almost the same amount of broken bones and mishaps as that fellow Eddie Rix, except none of them self-inflicted for reasons he'd rather not think about.

"Says it's an emergency."

"It better be," he grumbled. He looked to Louisa. "Can you finish up here?" He gestured to James.

"Yes, of course. Go on," she waved in the direction of his consulting room as he just stood by the table staring at her.

Martin snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat. Morwenna was still in the kitchen, watching the awkward scene being played out in front of her. "Um, I'll check on you at lunch?" he said to Louisa.

She nodded. "That'd be fine, Martin."

He cleared his throat once more, feeling like he was in the spotlight. "Mm. Remember to keep hydrated and rest as much as you can."

"Yes, and I love you too, Martin." She smiled at him, knowing that was as close to affectionate as he was going to be in front of Morwenna.

He tilted his head, feeling perplexed. "Um, yes. Mm." He turned and followed Morwenna under the stairs towards the reception room.

Louisa continued to smile at her husband's retreating form. This was how she imagined it to be - her and Martin and their son. He would always have his awkward moments around others, but behind closed doors he was the man she fell in love with.

"James Henry," she said, shaking her head at her son. "You're a messy little boy, aren't you." She wiped his applesauce-smeared face with his bib. "But your daddy and I love you very much." She swiped his fringe of blonde hair to the side. Their son was their strongest connection to each other, who kept them sane in the most difficult of times. James was her greatest gift and Louisa was sure that he was Martin's as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Martin sat down behind his desk, pulling out the stack of patient notes from its card stock sleeve. "What's the big emergency, Mr. Miller?" he sighed.

Chippy sat down across from Martin and placed his hand on the desk. Martin refrained from looking away at the gruesome, black sores covering the back of the fisherman's hand and wrist.

"What is it, Doc?" Chippy asked frantically when Martin didn't say anything. "It's serious, isn't it? Am I gonna die?"

Martin stood up and went to his cart of supplies and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Pulling his stool over, he sat down and started examining Chippy's hand.

"Well? How long do I have?"

"Shush!" Martin looked up at the anxious fisherman. "Mr. Miller, if you want me to diagnose your condition, it would be helpful if you stopped talking and kept still!"

Chippy closed his mouth and relaxed his hand on the desktop while Martin finished his examination.

Standing up, Martin pulled off his gloves and dropped them in the bin next to the sink. "You have a type of anthrax," he said while washing his hands.

Chippy frowned. "What's anthrax, Doc? Is it fatal?"

Sitting back down behind his desk, Martin picked up his biro and scribbled down a few notes. Looking up at his patient, he explained, "Anthrax is a disease most commonly passed on from infected animals to humans. And yes, it can be fatal, if left untreated. But in your case, you have cutaneous anthrax." He pointed to the black sores on Chippy's hand. "These black ulcers are eschars. They're caused by exposure to _Bacillus anthracis,_ which releases an anthrax toxin into the blood. Have you been around any grazing animals recently?"

Chippy thought for a moment. "Yeah, my brother owns a farm just outside of Bude; was helpin' him out with his fencin'."

"Hmm. You probably had an open sore of some type that was exposed to the pathogen. Your brother needs to have his livestock vaccinated, otherwise the ingestion of _anthracis_ can be very serious - fatal, if untreated."

"Oh. Well, I'll tell 'im, Doc. The tosser thinks he owns the world cause he has a few hundred acres of farmland. Not anymore. He's the reason I've got these . . . ?"

"Eschars," Martin finished for him.

"Right. Yeah."

"Mm." Martin looked down at his prescription pad. "I'm prescribing you penicillin. Mrs. Tishell should have it. The, um, ulcers should clear up in a few weeks. If not, come back and see me." He signed and handed over the prescription.

"Thanks, Doc." Chippy paused for a moment as he looked at Martin. "You know, you're alright, Doc. I know you think everyone in the village has it out for ya, what with your haemaphobia and all that. But you really are a good man. We appreciate you here, Doc; more than I think you realise."

Martin was taken aback by Chippy's kind words. He was unsure of what to say in response. He cleared his throat. "Mm, thank you, Mr. Miller. And, erm . . . I'm glad to be here as well."

Chippy gave Martin a smile that immediately made him uncomfortable. "If you could give these to Morwenna . . ." He held the sleeve of notes out for Chippy.

"Oh, yeah, sure." The fisherman took the notes. "Thanks again, Doc. I was so worried it was something serious."

"Mm, you're welcome." He watched Chippy leave, then turned back to the papers on his desk.

At lunch, Martin was able to check on Louisa. She was upstairs in bed with his laptop open on her lap. She looked up at him as he entered the room. "Hi, Martin."

He sat down on his side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" He reached over for the thermometer then placed it in her ear.

"Much better," she said, wiping her nose with a tissue.

The thermometer beeped. "Mm, your temperature's still a little high, but lower than yesterday."

"Do you think I'll be able to go back to work tomorrow?"

Martin sighed. "Yes, but don't get your hopes up. Louisa, you could still be harbouring the virus because of your anemia. I just don't want you to expose the children at the school to the pathogen."

"I know." She gave him a tender look. "How has your morning been?"

Martin turned away and stared at the wall. "Mm, the usual bunch of malingerers and simpletons."

"Mar-tin!"

He looked at her. "What?"

Louisa shook her head. "Never mind. I'm glad your day is going okay."

"Mm."

Louisa reached for his hand. "Have you thought of something to do for your birthday?"

"No, not yet."

Louisa looked at him in sympathy. Was his childhood that deprived that he couldn't enjoy his own birthday? "Will you let me make it a surpise?"

Martin scrunched his nose. "Oh, Louisa, I don't know . . ."

She squeezed his hand. "Please, Martin. Let me do this for you. You deserve a special day for your birthday, even if it is forty years too late. I want to be the one to give it to you - to make it special."

Martin let out a sigh. He knew he couldn't deny her request. Though he wouldn't admit it, deep down he really did want to celebrate his birthday. Maybe not in the way Louisa did with James' first birthday, but to spend it with his family was what he wanted most. "Okay. But can you keep the guest list to a minimum?"

"Yes, of course." She smiled at him then leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you." He peered over her shoulder to see what she was doing on his laptop. "What are you doing on there?"

Louisa snapped the computer shut. "Nothing. Just checking my email."

Martin eyed his wife with curiosity. "Mm. Is, um, Jennifer out with James?"

"It's Janice, not Jennifer, Martin. And they went out to get some lunch. I would have joined them, but my doctor prescribed immediate bed rest."

Martin shook his head. "Louisa, you don't need to stay in bed anymore, just take it easy." He noticed her smile. "Oh, I see. You were making a joke."

"Yes, Martin, I was joking." She reached up and fingered the hair above his ear.

Martin remained quiet for a few minutes, enjoying his wife's delicate touch. "Do you ever wish you were with somebody more . . . whimsical, er, I mean, extroverted?"

Louisa furrowed her brow. "Martin? Where is this coming from? You know that I love you for who you are."

He shrugged. "I know. I just wonder, is all."

Louisa touched his cheek, causing him to turn and face her. "Martin, you may not be the most sociable person, but your goodwill towards the health of the village, your devotion to me and James, is what I love most about you. I can't imagine myself with anyone else. You're the man that I love - that I'll always love."

Martin looked down at their entwined hands. He didn't even remember lacing their fingers together; it was just a reflex for him to be near her. "I can't imagine life without you, Louisa. I need to say this, but I'm terrified I'm going to muck things up between us again. I don't want to go back to how we were - when everything was a mess. I need your help, Louisa, because I can't do it on my own."

Louisa's face fell at his words. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, resting her cheek against his. "Yes, Martin, I will. I don't want us to drift apart again. But you have to talk to me - if something's troubling you."

Martin placed a hand on her back, gently caressing her through the fabric of her pyjama top. "I'm trying - I want to. I just never know what to say."

Louisa pulled away to look into his eyes. "We'll help each other. How does that sound?"

"Yes. That would be good."

Louisa toyed with his cufflink. "Will you have lunch with me? If you have time, that is."

He nodded, looking down at her. "Yes. I'll check with Morwenna, but yes, I would like to have lunch with you."

"Good. I was thinking along the lines of some soup. Will that do for you?"

Martin's eyes sparkled. "Yes. Anything you want."

. . .

At the school the following week, Louisa was in the middle of packing her messenger bag, eager to get home to Martin and James, when she heard the faint _buzz_ from her mobile vibrating on her desk. Picking it up, she read the text message from Martin. She quickly typed out a response then stowed the device in her purse.

Half an hour later, Louisa struggled through the front door of the surgery, her school bag and purse slung across one shoulder and Martin's dry cleaning over the other.

"Evening!" Morwenna announced as she looked up from the computer monitor.

"Hi, Morwenna. Does Martin still have surgery?" she asked, shutting the front door behind her.

"Yeah. He's still with a patient, sorry."

"Hmm. Well when he's finished could you let him know I'm home?"

"Of course."

Louisa gave Morwenna a smile before dragging herself up the stairs. In their bedroom, she draped Martin's dry cleaning across the bed then set her messenger bag and purse down by the dresser. Opening Martin's wardrobe, she saw the picture James had "drawn" when they went out to eat a couple of weeks ago taped underneath the mirror on the door. She smiled to herself. She didn't think of Martin as the sentimental type, but when it came to their son he was an entirely different person - gentle and caring, not at all like the gruff doctor he portrayed himself to be.

After hanging Martin's suits in the wardrobe, Louisa went downstairs to check on James. She found Janice in the living room, watching James as he stacked his building blocks one on top of the other.

"Did he give you any trouble today?" Louisa asked as she knelt next to her son on the floor.

Janice shook her head, smiling. "Not at all. He hardly throws a fit when he's with me." She looked down at James. "I don't know where he gets his calm temperament from." Glancing up at Louisa with wide eyes, the girl explained, "I mean, for a toddler, it just seems unusual for him to be so well behaved."

Louisa craned her neck and looked at the childminder askance. "Then Martin and I must be doing something right."

"Right." Janice let out a breath. "Well, I should be going." She leaned over and ruffled James' hair. "See you tomorrow, little man."

Louisa half-smiled, remembering that Mike, their former childminder, used to say the same thing. "Bye, Janice."

"Bye, Louisa. Have a good night." Swinging her backpack over her shoulders, she gave mother and son a wave goodbye.

Turning her attention to her little boy, Louisa said, "What are you building there, James?"

James looked up at his mother. He gave her a wide smile and handed her the red block that was in his hand. "Mum!"

Louisa smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart. Shall we put this one on top?"

James clapped his hands, giving Louisa permission to add the red block onto the precarious-looking tower. The boy reached for another block, and standing up, placed a green one on top of the red one.

Louisa watched her son. He was so much like Martin, personality-wise. He was generally a quiet toddler, not too vocal, and not one to obsessively crave for attention. She could tell he was an intelligent child, another trait of Martin's, from the way he focused and concentrated on putting each of his blocks on top of each other. But he also had a bit of a lively spirit, something she thought he inherited from her.

After adding the green block, James purposely pushed his tower over, sending the blocks scattering across the carpet of the living room. He let out a laugh and clapped his hands.

Louisa chuckled. "You silly boy," she said, taking him into her arms. She tickled his sides, causing the young Ellingham to erupt in another fit of giggles.

"What's going on out here?"

Louisa looked up to see Martin standing on the top step of the kitchen. "James and I are just playing."

"I see."

Louisa struggled to keep a squirming James in her arms. "Why don't you join us?"

He shook his head. "Mm. Sorry, I can't. I was in the middle of cleaning up the consulting room."

"Oh. Maybe later, then?"

Martin tugged on his ear. "Yes. Um, were you able to pick up my dry cleaning?"

"Yes."

"I would have done it myself, but my afternoon was pretty full."

"That's alright, Martin. I didn't mind." Louisa gave up at keeping James in her lap. She released her hold on him and watched as he rushed over to Martin.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he ran to Martin.

Martin smiled as he bent down and picked up his son, settling him against his chest. He briefly brushed his fingers over the boy's cheek and hair. "How are you, James?"

James giggled and placed his little hands on Martin's cheeks. "Da-ee!"

"That's right, James."

Louisa stood up from the floor and approached her two men. Placing a hand on Martin's arm she said, nodding to James, "I'll get his dinner started first. Was there something special you wanted?"

"Um, no. Whatever you decide is fine."

Louisa took James from Martin, who let out a whimper at being separated from his father. "C'mon, James. You can help Mummy with dinner."

Martin watched for a moment as his wife whispered to their son while she settled him into his high chair. He grinned slightly, thinking how he was the luckiest man in Portwenn. He had a beautiful wife, whom he loved dearly, and a son who was the centre of his world.

"You okay, Martin?"

Martin was pulled from his thoughts by Louisa's soft voice. "Yes." She smiled at him and Martin ducked his head, then turned on his heel towards the consulting room.

. . .

"Happy birthday, Martin," Louisa whispered in his ear early the next morning.

Martin yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Looking at his watch on his bedside table, he said, "Technically, it's not my birthday until ten-thirty."

"Oh."

He turned on his side to face her. "It's fine. I don't mind. Thank you."

Louisa wrapped her arms around him, leaning forward to kiss him gently. Martin returned her gesture, putting a bit of passion into his kisses. He heard a low moan escape Louisa's throat, and he let his left hand trail down her back to rest against her bottom.

"Mm, Martin," she purred, resting her forehead against his. "That was nice. As much as I'd like to continue this, I have to be at the school early. I have a handful of interviews for the new year four teaching position." She started to pull away, but Martin refused to let her go.

"Can't we just stay like this for a few more minutes? Please?"

Louisa smiled at him. "Since it's your birthday - yes, we can." She reached out and caressed his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his unshaven jaw.

Martin ran his fingers through her dark hair, loving its silky smoothness. "You're so beautiful, Louisa," he whispered to her.

Louisa shifted herself closer to him, nuzzling her nose into his neck. "Thank you, Martin."

"I'm so lucky," he breathed out as one of his hands made its way up her side.

Louisa inhaled a sharp breath as she felt his fingers stop at her rib cage, his thumb grazing the edge of her breast. "Martin, please . . ."

"Mm." He felt her begin to move away. "Don't go."

Louisa softened at his pleading expression. She ran a hand over the unruly patch of hair at the crown of his head. "I have to, I'm sorry. But I'll make it up to you later, alright?"

"Okay," he said with a sigh.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

A short time later, Martin meandered into the kitchen freshly shaved and smartly dressed in one of his gray suits. Louisa was simultaneously feeding James while reading over her interview notes. She looked up once she noticed his presence. "Is the coffee okay?" she asked as he stared down at his cup with an unpleasant look.

Glancing up at Louisa he replied, "It's fine."

"Oh. Good." She turned to James. "Can you say happy birthday to Daddy, James?"

"Da-ee!" the boy cried, waving his spoon back and forth, sending bits of oatmeal flying about.

"I think he just likes saying your name, Martin," Louisa remarked, smiling at their son.

"Mm." Martin sat down across from her with his cup of coffee.

"Aren't you going to eat anything? I left an egg for you on the cooker."

"I'm not really hungry."

Louisa looked across the table at him through lowered lids. "I see. You should really eat something, Martin. You're always telling me a good breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Martin nodded. "Yes. I just don't have an appetite at the moment."

"Hmm." Louisa glanced down at her watch. "Gosh! I need to go!" She wiped James' face then started gathering her papers together. After knotting her scarf and slipping on her coat, she pulled her school bag over her shoulder then moved towards Martin. "I should be home early today."

Martin furrowed his brow, noticing a sparkle in his wife's eyes. She was planning something, or already planned it, he could tell. He started to grow wary of the day ahead. Yes, it was his birthday, he just hoped he could be spared any humiliation from whatever his wife had planned for him.

"Try not to get too worked up today, okay?" she said, looking down at him.

"Yes."

She smoothed her fingers over the fine hairs just above his ear. "I love you. And happy birthday, my extraordinary man." Before he could say something, Louisa leaned down and kissed him; a sweet, lingering kiss that, she was sure, left him wanting more.

"Mm. Um, me too," he stammered. "I mean, I love you, too."

"I know." She moved to James. "Bye, darling," she whispered in his ear then kissed the top of his head. A moment later she was out the door.

As Martin walked out to the reception area later that morning, he saw Bert Large sitting on the seat below the window next to Morwenna's desk. He gave the "handyman" a displeasing look.

"Mornin', Doc!" Bert said. "A little birdy told me it was your birthday today."

"It's your birthday?!" Morwenna inquired, looking up at him from her computer. "I didn't know that."

Martin scowled at her then turned his attention to Bert. "Who told you it was my birthday? Was it Louisa?"

Bert chuckled. "Does it matter? The real question is when's the party?"

Martin's frown deepened. How could Louisa have gone and blabbed that it was his birthday? Like a virus, it only took one person for the gossip to spread through the entire village. He slapped down the sleeve of patient notes he was holding on to Morwenna's desk. "There is no party," he grumbled. "If you don't have an actual medical complaint, then go away! I don't need my time wasted!" Martin turned and headed back to his consulting room.

"But what about my back, Doc?" Bert called out.

"Make an appointment!" Martin shouted in response. "Next patient!"

Morwenna turned to Bert. "Do you think I should get him something? You know, since it's his birthday. How old do you think he is?"

Bert chuckled then shrugged his shoulders. "Aw, I wouldn't worry about it, girl. The doc doesn't seem like the gift-receiving type."

"Yeah, but still. I feel sorta bad that I didn't know it was his birthday." Morwenna paused as she thought. "Say, who did tell you it was the doc's birthday?"

Bert looked around the reception room, seeing the eyes of the other waiting patients glued in his direction. He leaned closer to Morwenna and whispered conspiratorially, "Let's just say that Mrs. T was very generous with the pain meds I got for my back."

Morwenna's eyebrows shot up. "No? It was Mrs. Tishell?"

Bert eyed the receptionist. "But you didn't hear that from me."

Morwenna smiled. "Right."

Martin was tidying his desk at lunch when there was a knock on the door of the consulting room. "Yes?" he called out.

The door opened and Mrs. Tishell stepped through, her arms full with a giant fruit basket. "Good afternoon, Doctor!"

Martin tensed as she moved closer to him. He started fiddling with a paper clip to keep his fingers busy.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday," she said, setting the large basket down on the edge of his desk. "I remembered you don't eat chocolate, so I thought a nice fruit basket would be appropriate."

Martin stared dumbfounded at the basket of fruit on his desk. What was he supposed to do with all that fruit? Who knows how long it's been sitting out, probably going through the first stages of fermentation. "Um, er, thank you, Mrs. Tishell."

"Are you surprised that I remembered?" She gave him a wide smile.

"Remember what?"

"Your birthday."

"Oh." He cleared his throat, feeling like the room was getting smaller. "I never mentioned to you when my birthday was."

She waved him off. "Oh, I have my sources. We medical professionals tend to be close, if you know what I mean." She winked at him.

"Um, right. Well, it was lovely seeing you," he said sarcastically, "but I really am busy, Mrs. Tishell." He looked away from her, eager to end their conversation.

"Oh, right, of course. I'll just be on my way, then, to Clive - my husband, who is doing very well."

"Good. Goodbye."

"Happy birthday, Dr. Ellingham!" she sing-songed as she made her exit.

Martin looked at the basket of fruit on his desk with a curled lip. He was tempted to put it right in the bin out on the front terrace, but decided he couldn't waste all that fruit. He was sure some of it was still edible enough - at least for him.

. . .

At three o'clock, Louisa entered the kitchen through the back door, hauling with her several plastic bags of shopping. She walked over to the hallway under the stairs, listening for Martin's voice. She could hear him with a patient, and from his angry tone, surmised that he wasn't too happy.

Moving back into the kitchen, she started putting away the groceries she had purchased on her way home from the school. Everything was in place for Martin's birthday dinner, the only problem was getting him out of the house so she could prepare it. That was where Ruth came in.

When there was finally a gap between patients, Louisa stuck her head in the consulting room. Knocking lightly on the doorframe, she said, "Martin? Do you have a few minutes?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Um, yes."

Louisa approached his desk. "Ruth called me this afternoon while I was at school. She said she has something important to show you."

"And?" He looked back down at the medical book he was skimming through.

Louisa started to play with the buttons on her cardigan. She hated deceiving him, but it was for his own benefit - at least she hoped it was. "I don't know. She was very cryptic on the phone. That was all I could get out of her. She wants you to stop by after your last patient."

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. He hated being interrupted when the surgery was in session. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? I'm very busy at the moment," he said, flipping a page in the textbook.

Louisa began chewing her lip. Her attempt at getting him to leave the house for a while wasn't going according to plan. "Well, she said it was important, Martin. I really think you should pay your aunt a visit. She spends most of her time with Al thinking of new ways to improve their business. I think it would mean a lot to her if you went and visited with her."

Martin sighed, closing the medical textbook. "Louisa, I really don't feel up to it. I've had a trying day already. I'd rather just lie down for the rest of the day and be done with it."

Louisa moved to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pressure you."

He was quiet for a moment. Letting out another sigh, he said, "Mm. I suppose if it's really that important I can stop and visit with Ruth for a few minutes."

Louisa smiled in triumph. "She'd like that, Martin."

He looked up at her. "How was your day?"

She waved her hand back and forth. "Oh, you know . . . same old, same old."

He studied her features for a moment. "You look tired. Maybe you should rest for a while until Jemima returns with James?"

"Oh?"

"Mm, it's common for mothers at your age to become tired earlier in the day."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "Martin Ellingham, are you saying I'm old?"

Martin's eyes grew wide. "Um, no, not exactly," he sputtered. "What I meant to say is that it's alright for you to take a break once and a while."

"Oh. I see."

"Mm." He looked down at his watch. "Louisa, my next patient is in a few minutes . . ."

"Right." She stepped away from him. She was about to leave when a thought hit her. "Martin? Where did all that fruit in the refrigerator come from?"

He looked up at her with a worried expression. "Mm, it was a gift."

"A gift? From who?"

"Mrs. Tishell," he said while clearing his throat.

Louisa frowned. "Mrs. Tishell brought you fruit?"

"Yes. Apparently, she knew it was my birthday today. Did you say something to her? Because Louisa you told me you weren't going to make a big fuss about my birthday. I don't want a party with the entire village."

Louisa crossed her arms. "I didn't mention a word to Mrs. Tishell, nor have I seen her all week. I can't believe you wouldn't trust me." She turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door with an effective _bang._

Martin stared at the closed door. How did things go so wrong? he wondered. He shook his head. For as long as he would be married to Louisa, he didn't think he'd ever fully understand her. But from the way she abruptly left the consulting room, he feared he'd mucked things up again.

So what are you going to do to fix it, Ellingham? his inner voice inquired. Standing up from his desk, Martin left his consulting room to find Louisa. She was sitting on the sofa, staring at a painting on the wall. "Louisa?" he said hesitantly.

Louisa didn't move. She remained quiet and transfixed on the the dark, olive-coloured wall.

Martin cleared his throat. "Louisa? I'm sorry."

"For what?" she snapped "All I wanted was to make today special for you." She finally turned to look at him. "I didn't say anything, or tell a single soul, that it was your birthday. I wouldn't go behind your back like that. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Martin stepped down into the living room and he noticed her tear-filled eyes. "Louisa, don't cry." He sat down next to her and she turned and buried her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her as she trembled against him. "I'm sorry. Tell me about this surprise you had planned."

She turned her head away from his neck and began, "I was going to make you dinner. Broiled mackerel and roasted potatoes and asparagus - to satisfy your guideline of optimal nutrition. It was just going to be you, me, James, and Ruth. That's why I wanted you to visit her; so I could prepare dinner." She pulled away to look at him. "I even bought a small cake at the bakery." She smiled and wiped her eyes with her finger.

"But I don't like cake."

"I know you don't. But Ruth and I would have had some."

"I see."

"Can we start over?" Louisa asked as she smoothed her fingers over the pattern of his blue tie.

Martin furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, can we just forget our argument and start the evening over?"

Martin brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Yes."

Louisa's smile widened. "Can I still make you dinner?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Good." She stared at him for a moment. When it was just the two of them it allowed her to catch a glimpse of the real Martin - her Martin. Looking into those bluish-gray eyes of his, she could see the love he felt for her expressed in one simple look. And she wondered how he could say the most insensitive things to her sometimes. It was who he was, but she liked to think that she was slowly chipping away at the protective walls he built around himself.

Running her hand down his chest, Louisa leaned up to kiss him, but was interrupted by Morwenna shouting from the waiting room.

Martin sighed, his nose just inches from hers. "Um, my next patient's here."

"Yes."

He continued to look at her, not wanting to get up. "I look forward to dinner. And especially what comes after." A slight smile tugged at his lips.

"Martin!" Louisa almost burst out laughing. He hardly ever made teasing or suggestive remarks, but when he did it made her heart flutter.

"What?"

Louisa shook her head. "I just can't believe you said that. You never say things like that."

"I know. But I'm trying to change - open up more, like you wanted."

Louisa grasped his left hand, brushing her thumb over the thin metal of his wedding band. "We'll be okay, Martin. I have faith in us."

Martin blew a hiss of air through his nose. "So do I. You mean everything to me, Louisa."

Louisa wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Martin, for saying that."

"Mm." He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her. Even though he had an exhausting afternoon, there was still much to look forward to.

"Doc!" Morwenna's voice rang out once more. "Mr. Calloway isn't gettin' any younger!"

Martin opened his eyes, their moment now ended. Pulling away from Louisa he said, "I should see to that idiot."

"Mar-tin," she replied in disapproval.

"Mm." He opened his mouth to defend himself but Louisa silenced him.

"Just go." She waved her hand towards the direction of the consulting room.

He stood up from the sofa. "Um, I'll see you later?"

"Yes. But you still have to pick up Ruth. She'll be expecting you."

"Yes."

Louisa watched him leave. Despite their row earlier, she was happy that they were able to work through it together as a couple. She started towards the kitchen with an extra bounce in her step. She was going to make this the best birthday Martin ever had.

. . .

At promptly six o'clock, the entire Ellingham family sat down to dinner. James was on his best behaviour and Louisa surmised that Martin and Ruth were engaged in a medical based conversation of some sort. She was having trouble following their terminology, so she held her attention to her son. After placing a small chunk of potato on the tray of his high chair, she watched her husband. He was sitting next to her, wearing the same gray suit, except he changed his shirt and tie. He seemed more carefree than he usually was. He caught her staring at him, and Louisa averted her eyes to her plate.

"Louisa, this really is a wonderful meal," Ruth said, bringing her glass of white wine to her lips.

"Yes, it is." Martin turned to face his wife with a gentle expression.

Louisa smiled as her face reddened. She wasn't used to such praise over her cooking. "Thank you."

After dinner, Louisa and Ruth enjoyed a piece of cake while Martin sipped his tea, watching James playing on the floor of the living room with his toys.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as Martin moved to sit on the floor by him. He walked over and fell into his father's lap.

Martin picked him up and swung him above his head then plopped him down in his lap. The boy looked up at Martin with a smile and laughed.

Louisa turned from the washing up to see Martin with James in his lap. He brushed his fingers over their son's hair while he explained the mechanical workings of a train as James pushed his toy around. It was scene of normalcy she waited so very long to see. James and Martin had a special bond. She didn't know how she could have ever doubted his ability at being a father.

"Martin?" Ruth announced as she stood up from the kitchen table. "I have something for you." She reached into her handbag and pulled out an envelope.

Martin remained seated on the floor with James as his aunt handed him the envelope. He opened it and pulled out a birthday card. Inside was a photograph of himself as a young boy with his Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil. He studied the picture, trying to recall the memory of when it was taken.

"Al found it in a tin in the barn. I thought you might like it."

"Yes. Um, thank you." He continued to gaze at the faded photograph. He hardly had any pictures of his Auntie Joan. And lately, he found himself thinking about her more frequently. He still missed her presence in his life, but with Louisa and James he was able to move on.

"Maybe we can find a frame to put it in?" Louisa suggested, moving to stand behind him so she could see the photograph.

"Mm, yes." Martin tucked the photo back into the card and placed it on the coffee table.

"Well, I suppose I'll let you three enjoy the rest of your evening," Ruth said, gathering her coat from the rack next to the kitchen door.

"So soon?" Louisa asked. "I could make a pot of coffee?"

Ruth shook her head. "No thank you, dear. It's getting late and I'd rather not walk back to my cottage in the dark."

"Well, we could drive you, or Martin could, that is."

"No, that's alright. I'm not one to linger. And the walk back will be refreshing."

"Alright."

"Happy birthday, Martin," Ruth called out to her nephew as she said her goodbyes for the night.

"Yes," came his curt reply.

Ruth gave Louisa a small smile then headed out the door.

"Martin?" Louisa pulled out a large wrapped box from where she stored it in the pantry next to the washing machine. "I, um, got you something." She moved over to the living room and set the box down next to him.

He looked up at her, surprised. "Oh, Louisa, you didn't have to get me anything."

"It's just something I saw and immediately thought of you, so . . ."

"Mm, right." He handed James over to Louisa and unwrapped the box. He pulled out a mantle clock.

"I saw it in the window of an antiques shop when we were in Wadebridge. I had it delivered to the school so you wouldn't find out. I thought it might be a new project for you, since your mother took your grandfather's clock with her when she left."

At the mention of his mother, Martin looked up at Louisa. "What do you mean she took my grandfather's clock?"

"We ran into each other at the airport on the day you, um, came to rescue me from the plane. She had it with her luggage. She said you gave it to her."

A frown fell across Martin's face. "Well she lied. Her whole visit was a lie. She doesn't care about me, or James, she just wanted my money because my father left her no capital when he died. When it went missing, I thought maybe Ruth took back the clock."

Louisa reached out and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Martin. I know she was never there for you."

Martin looked down at the motionless clock. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about her anymore."

"Do you think you'll be able to restore it?" She indicated the clock in his hands.

He lifted the clock up to get a better look at it. "Yes. It's not too old, shouldn't be too difficult."

"Good. I'm glad you like it."

He glanced up to meet her eyes. "Thank you, Louisa, not only for the clock, but for everything."

Louisa knew what he meant and it made a smile appear at her lips. "You're welcome, Martin."

Looking at a sleepy James, Martin said, "Shall I give him his bath or do you want to?"

"Can we do it together?"

"Yes."

Martin stood up and disposed of the box and its wrapping paper. "I'll just put this in the consulting room." He held up his "new" clock and turned away.

Turning on the light in his consulting room, Martin placed his new project down on his desk and noticed a white envelope propped up against his desk lamp. He opened it and pulled out a birthday card. Inside, he read the brief message from Morwenna. After a moment, he set the card back down then left the consulting room.

Once James was bathed and put to bed, Martin was finishing up in the bathroom. After turning out the light, he sank into bed beside Louisa. He turned on his side to face her.

"Well, it's just you and me . . . husband." She smiled at him.

"Yes."

"Was it okay - your birthday, I mean?"

"Yes. More thank okay - it was good. Thank you."

Louisa toyed with the cuff of his pyjama top. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Martin grasped her hand and laced their fingers together. "I did." He paused as he looked at her. She was in her dressing gown and her hair was down, falling over her right shoulder. She was so beautiful. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "I'm so lucky," he said softly.

Louisa melted at his gesture. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. "Martin . . ."

"Yes?"

"Come here." She rolled on to her back, pulling him on top of her. His nose brushed her cheek and Louisa placed a hand behind his neck.

Keeping his forearms on either side of her to keep his weight off her, Martin turned his head and their lips met in a gentle kiss.

Louisa ran her fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck as their kiss deepened. She inhaled a breath as he rolled them over, allowing her to be back on top.

Martin ran a hand down her back and Louisa sat up so she was looking down at him. She silently began undoing the buttons of his light blue pyjama top, letting her fingers wander over his exposed skin. Leaning down, she kissed the hollow of his throat.

"Oh, Louisa," he moaned, feeling his body respond to her gentle ministrations. His hands reached down and fumbled at the sash of her dressing gown.

Louisa pulled his hands away and undid the knot herself, letting the silky material slide off her shoulders. She kissed him again, snaking her hands around his sides to the small of his back.

Martin's expert surgeon's fingers explored his wife's every curve. She was so warm and soft that he couldn't get enough of her. "You're so beautiful, Louisa," he breathed out once their kiss ended. "So very beautiful."

Louisa looked at him. She traced the curve of his eyebrow with her thumb, down his temple, and finally stopping at the corner of his mouth.

He sat up, looking deep into her eyes. "I love you, Louisa."

Louisa felt her heart skip a beat at his words. "I love you, Martin - always."

Martin pulled her to him and together, let themselves feel the other's deep emotions. His fingers danced over her smooth skin while she finished disrobing him of his remaining clothes. They were gentle with each other, moving at a slow and tender pace, making each touch and caress last as long as possible.

Much later, their limbs still entwined and breathing even, Martin turned his head towards Louisa. She was nestled against his right side, her head resting against his collarbone. He reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together. Louisa took control and placed their joined hands on the spot above his heart. She smiled when she felt him shift their hands down and a little to the left. "Right here," he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Martin was up early Thursday morning and in his consulting room, taking inventory of the medical supplies he had left. He looked up at the ceiling as he could hear his wife's footsteps and James' gurgles of laughter from the second level. A slight smile tugged at his lips. He was finally becoming used to their domesticity as a married couple.

He finished his list of items he would need Morwenna to order and walked out to reception to put it on her desk just as Louisa was coming down the stairs, helping James as he navigated his way down the steps by her side.

"Good morning," his wife beamed at him. "Gosh, you're up early."

"Mm, morning. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Martin."

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"Da-ee!" James squealed once he and Louisa reached the bottom step. The boy pulled away from his mother and toddled over to Martin.

Martin swung his son up into his arms, eliciting a laugh from the child. "Morning, James. How are you?" He brushed his fingers over his son's cheek.

James leaned forward to rest his head against his father's. Martin glanced at his son for a moment then shifted his eyes to Louisa. She was smiling at him, obviously happy at the tender scene between father and son.

"Are you hungry at all?" she asked him.

"Um, yes."

"Good." She turned and headed for the kitchen and Martin let his eyes wander over her backside. The dark jeans she wore hugged her every curve and the knit green jumper contrasted her dark hair.

"Martin?" Her voice snapped him out of his trance. "Are you coming?"

He cleared his throat. "Mm, yes."

During breakfast, Louisa was uncharacteristically quiet as they ate. She dreaded having to tell Martin about the school's upcoming Christmas concert. Like the previous year, he was not at all enthusiastic about having to attend the end of term concert. But she could sense that maybe it would be different this year. They'd been through a lot since then and the disastrous dinner party that followed.

"Louisa?"

She glanced up from her egg to meet Martin's concerned eyes. "Hmm?"

"Are you feeling alright? You're being awfully quiet this morning."

Louisa shook her head, causing her ponytail to flick from side to side. "I just have something on my mind, that's all."

Martin remained pensive. "Oh."

Putting her hands in her lap, Louisa started chewing on her lip, trying to find the courage to ask him. She didn't know why it was so difficult. He was her husband. But she knew he hated attending public functions and the last thing she wanted was for them to end up in an argument just before she had to leave.

Nervously twisting her wedding band around her finger, Louisa took in a deep breath and went for it. "Martin, the school's Christmas concert is next week."

He turned his attention away from James to look at her. "Oh?"

Louisa nodded. "Yes, and as headmistress I'm leading the function, but it's also expected that you attend with me - you know, as my husband."

Martin's brow creased. _Oh, God,_ he thought to himself.

"Martin?" Louisa gave him a pleading smile, willing him to accept the invitation.

"Uhm, I-" he stammered, "Is it mandatory that I attend?"

Her smile faded. Of course, she thought. "Martin, I thought we'd gotten past this? You know, since the end of term concert last year?"

Martin looked over at James then back to his wife. "Yes, I know, but what about James?"

"Well we have Janice. And if she's not available he could always come with us." Louisa could tell he still wasn't convinced. She let out a sigh. "Please, Martin? For me? Things between us have been much better lately and I just thought that maybe you'd like to attend a community event with your wife. I'd like that, anyway."

Martin could see the disappointment in her eyes as she looked across the table at him. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy, but the idea of having to endure an hour of off-key singing and excruciating small talk made his head ache. And the last thing he wanted was to drive another rift between himself and Louisa.

"It's fine if you're not up to it," she said after he made no attempt at an answer.

"No, I'll go."

Louisa looked up at him, surprised by his willing response. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes. This is important to you. And I, um, want to be there with you, no matter how agonising it'll be."

Louisa ignored the last bit of his comment. "Thank you, Martin." She smiled at him.

"Yes."

In a better mood, she turned to her son. "Maybe we can take you with us, huh, James? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She tickled his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.

Martin frowned. "Are you sure that would be a good idea? Taking him with?"

"Why not? It'll give some of the villagers a chance to meet him. And the more social interactions James has, the better, don't you think?"

Martin continued to frown. Why was his wife so insistent about James being sociable? He was only eighteen months old, just starting to talk. "Why do you insist on James being sociable?" he asked her, tilting his head to the side.

Louisa raised her brows at his blunt question. "Because, Martin, we live in a small village in a secluded area. Don't you want your son to be sociable when he gets older?"

Martin sighed. He knew it was because of his own introverted personality that she was worried about James. "Yes, but why do you have to push him? He is who he is, Louisa. Let James be himself. I don't want him to be like me, and it would make me happy if he had your strength and confidence, but we can't know for sure." He turned to face James, who was looking at him with such adoration that it made Martin's chest swell. "All I know is that he has two parents who love him; that love him for who he is, not how he should be."

Louisa softened her features. She was taken by surprise at his words. Perhaps he was right? James shared a copy of each of their genetic makeup. He was a unique individual but distinctly theirs. There was no telling if he was going to be as withdrawn as Martin or as sociable as her when he was older.

"I'm sorry, Martin," she said. "I don't mean to push him into situations like that, but I just worry, you know? I want our son to have a healthy and stimulating life. Sometimes, when I look at him, I think of you and your horrible upbringing and it just terrifies me that James will somehow be affected by that."

Martin let his frown disappear and reached over with an open palm. She placed her hand in his and gripped it tightly. "We're doing just fine," he said, nodding towards James. "He's perfect the way he is."

Louisa looked over at the life they created together - out of love, she was sure. "Yes." Then she thought for a moment. "You won't change your mind about the concert, will you?"

He sighed, "No."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

. . .

On the night of the school Christmas concert, Martin was adjusting his tie as he looked in the mirror hanging on the door of his wardrobe. He paused, staring at his reflection. He sighed internally. He really had no interest in going, but being married to the headmistress he was expected by the community to attend school functions. At least James would be with them, despite his initial reluctance. That way their son could provide him with a distraction and a diversion to small talk.

He moved to the bathroom to fetch his comb. Louisa was at the sink, pulling her hair up in an impossible-looking style. She caught his eye in the mirror as he stood behind her.

"My, don't you look handsome," she said, noticing how his blue tie brought out the pale colour of his eyes.

Martin grunted and reached around her for his comb. For a minute, they were silent as he combed his short hair into place. Gazing down at the red-patterned dress she wore, he felt his heart rate pick up. Settling his hands on her hips, he stepped closer to her.

Louisa froze as she felt his hands gently encase her hips. She glanced up at him in the mirror and could see a sparkle in his eyes. Grasping his hands, she pulled them around her waist to rest against her abdomen.

Nuzzling his nose behind her ear, Martin breathed out, "You look so beautiful."

Keeping her hands atop his, Louisa smiled to herself. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm. Are you wearing perfume?" he asked as he inhaled the scent of her.

Her smile quickly faded. "Martin, I swear, if you say anything inappropriate or offensive . . ."

He pulled away momentarily to meet her gaze in the mirror. "I won't - I promise." The corners of his lips tugged upwards in a brief grin. "But I have to ask, is it kenzo flower?"

Louisa's smile reappeared as she pulled him back to her. "Yes. You remembered."

"Mm. It suits you."

She could stand there all day with his arms wrapped around her. When they were alone like this, he let his inhibitions slide away, tangible evidence of the effect she had on him.

He kissed the skin just below her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Mm, Martin. We need to leave soon." She closed her eyes as he ignored her statement and continued to nibble on her sensitive skin. His grip around her waist tightened and when she glanced up in the mirror, his eyes were dark with longing.

Turning around in his embrace, Louisa placed her palms on the lapels of his suit. "Martin, we really do need to leave."

"I don't want to. I want to stay right here - with you."

She smiled briefly. "As much as I'd like to, I'm needed at the school." She was able to break free of his hold and headed out to their bedroom. He followed her.

"How long will this last?" he asked, standing next to the bed, twitching his fingers.

"Just a few hours," she replied, sitting down to put on her heels.

Martin sighed. "Will I have to _mingle_ with any of your ghastly colleagues?"

Louisa stood up and gave him an angry look. "They're not _ghastly_ , Martin. Some of them are my friends."

"I see. Will what's his name be there? The one I diagnosed with Parkinson's, along with his alcoholic wife?"

Louisa blew out an exasperated breath. "No, Martin. Dennis and Karen won't be there, so you're safe."

He ducked his head. "Right. I'll, um, get James then meet you in the car."

"Yes, thank you," she said in a clipped tone.

The Christmas concert was being held in the gymnasium of the school. Upon entering, Martin weaved his way through chatting parents and errant, running children, ducking now and again to avoid the seasonal decorations hanging from above.

He had James perched in his right arm, who seemed mesmerised by all the new faces and shimmering lights and decorations he saw. People turned to stare at him as he walked through the crowd. Martin began to grow self-conscious and desperately searched for his wife, who had gone her separate way to begin preparing for her opening speech. He saw her dark hair as she stood near the stage set-up talking to one of her colleagues. He turned around and found an open end seat in one of the middle rows. He settled James on his lap and silently waited for the evening to begin.

After Louisa finished her opening speech and the audience's applause faded, she sank down into the empty seat beside Martin.

"Your speech was very good," he whispered in her ear.

Louisa turned and smiled at him. "Thank you," she whispered back. "Would you like me to take him?" She gestured to James, who was wide awake from all the noise.

"Um, no, I'm fine." Martin shifted in his seat, feeling his legs beginning to grow numb from the weight of James in his lap.

"Okay." Louisa turned her attention to the stage, where her pupils were gathered, ready to perform.

For the next hour, Martin sat and listened to the out of tune singing and poorly choreographed dancing. He kept James situated in his lap, impressed by how well his son was behaving. About halfway through the program, the music was starting to give Martin a headache and he desperately wanted to find a lavatory he could hide in for the rest of the night. He glanced over at Louisa out of the corner of his eye. The children's average performance had little effect on her. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be enjoying herself. She tapped her fingers in her lap along to the music, all the while smiling from ear to ear.

When the concert finished, Martin was grateful. He stood amongst the crowd of nattering parents and teachers. Louisa finally returned to his side with James, who had needed a quick nappy change. She placed her hand on his arm, causing him to look down at her. "How are you doing?" she asked him.

"Mm, fine." He bent down next to her ear so no one else could overhear him, "How long do we have to stay?"

"Just a little while longer, I'm afraid."

He grunted once more then looked away.

"Louisa," a gentle, male voice crooned.

Martin turned his head to see a man walking towards them, or rather towards his wife. He was young, most likely around Louisa's age, and he was dressed in a black suit and white shirt but no tie.

"Hi, Elliot," Louisa replied, giving him a smile. She turned to face Martin. "Martin, this is Elliot Keane. He's our new year four teacher."

Martin was less than pleased as the man strolled up to Louisa's side. He kept his mouth fixed in a tight line.

"Elliot, this is my husband, Martin," she said, introducing him.

Elliot smiled at Martin and stuck out his arm. Martin glanced down at the man's hand and reluctantly shook it. "Nice to meet you, mate." The teacher turned his attention to James. "And this little one must be James, right?" He tickled the boy's cheek and James remained uncertain by the new stranger.

Martin narrowed his eyes at Elliot, not comfortable with a strange man touching his son.

"Yes, this is James - James Henry," Louisa said as she looked lovingly at her son.

"So you're the GP?" Elliot said, facing Martin once more. "The great Dr. Ellingham. I've heard a lot about you."

Martin's brow creased. "Oh, really?" he said with a sneer.

Louisa could sense her husband's hostility and gently placed her hand on his arm. "It's alright, Martin," she whispered to him. As the two men eyed each other up and down, Louisa desperately thought of a way to diffuse the tension.

"Did you enjoy the concert?" Elliot asked Martin, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

Martin's frown was unmoving. "Mm. It was adequate."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "Well, I suppose that's what happens right before holiday break, right?" He smiled at Martin, attempting once more to break through the doctor's severe facade.

"Mm," was Martin's abrupt reply.

He turned to face Louisa again. "Hey, great speech." He playfully nudged her arm with his elbow. "It was very inspiring."

Louisa grinned. "Aw, thank you. But I couldn't have done it without my editor here." She linked her free arm though Martin's, embracing him from the side.

Elliot, sensing their conversation was heading to an end, politely excused himself. "Well, um, it was nice to finally meet you, Martin."

"Dr. Ellingham," Martin corrected him.

Elliot shook his head. "Yes. Sorry about that. I heard you prefer your proper title. We'll have to meet up sometime. Have a pint down at the pub?"

Martin grunted. "Mm. I don't drink."

Feeling the awkwardness increase, Elliot addressed Louisa, "So I'll see you after the holiday break, right?"

She nodded and he placed a friendly hand on the small of her back, which caught Martin's attention. He meant to take a step forward and pull the man's arm away, but Elliot had already removed his hand. "Happy holidays," he said then turned away into the crowd.

Louisa whipped her head around to her husband, giving him a fierce glare. "What?" Martin said, tilting his head to the side.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to contain her anger. "I know you weren't too keen about meeting Elliot, but you could've at least been polite to him."

Martin scrunched his nose. "He was being smarmy."

"No, Martin. He was being sociable, unlike somebody." Her head flicked sharply as she turned and left him standing there.

"Louisa?" he called after her, but she didn't stop.

The short drive back to the surgery was in stony silence. Louisa refused to look at him and kept her gaze fixed outside the car window. Martin was feeling just as tense, not only from his wife's anger but from the way that wheedling teacher took an interest in Louisa. He may not be the best at picking up on social cues or emotions, but he could definitely read the body language of that arrogant twit.

Entering the cottage, Louisa finally turned to face him. "Martin, I'm going to bed."

"Louisa . . ." Martin paused, unsure of how to continue. He looked at James, who was asleep in his mother's arms.

"Yes?"

He could see how tired she was. "Um, nothing," he said while shaking his head.

Louisa glanced down at the floor for a moment then turned and headed up the stairs.

Martin retreated to his consulting room, deciding that Louisa needed a bit of time to herself. He sat down heavily behind his desk and gazed around the immaculate space, unsure of what to do. His eyes caught a glimpse of the mantle clock Louisa had given him for his birthday sitting on the windowsill. He meant to give it a proper examination but hadn't found the time. He was either too busy with patients or too engrossed in family matters.

Standing up, he retrieved the clock and set it down on his desk. He swiveled around to the cupboard behind him and reached for his case of tools. Unrolling the velvet material in front of him, he picked up the small screwdriver and set to work at disassembling the clock.

It was after midnight and Martin still hadn't come upstairs. Louisa continued to toss and turn. Sleep eluded her as she worried about her husband. She didn't know why his taciturn nature upset her so much. Was she embarrassed by him? Sometimes that was the case, especially when he was rude and offensive, but reserved and gruff was how he was always going to be.

Louisa punched her pillow, hating herself for chastising him. _Oh, Martin_ , she thought, _I'm sorry_. She turned on her side and looked at the empty space next to her. Finally, she got out of bed and donned her dressing gown.

Martin had all the pieces of his clock laid out in front of him when he heard a soft knock on the doorframe. He turned his head to see Louisa standing in the doorway.

"Martin?" she said as she tentatively approached him. He turned away and looked down at the many gears in front of him. Louisa swallowed hard. "Martin, we should really talk about what happened earlier at the concert."

"Mm. What's there to talk about? You're obviously upset with me. For what, I still don't understand."

She sat down in the chair across from him. "That's why we need to talk. I realise now that I overreacted."

"Which you tend to do a lot," he mumbled as he cleaned the teeth of one of the tiny gears.

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "Mar-tin, would you leave the clock alone and just listen to me."

Her strong voice pulled his attention back to his wife and he waited for more of her harsh words to follow.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Elliot. But in all honesty, you could have been a bit more polite to him. He was just trying to be friendly."

"He was being more friendly with you if I remember correctly."

"He was not!" Louisa replied defensively.

Martin tilted his head to the side. "Oh, so you didn't notice the way he kept touching you?"

"He wasn't _touching_ me, Martin."

"I see."

Louisa continued to glare at him. This was not how she envisioned their discussion to be. "Don't say _I see_ like that."

"Then what do you want me to say, Louisa? Because it seems that every time I open my mouth you get upset."

Louisa looked down at the many parts and pieces of the clock scattered across the surface of his desk. She took in deep breath and said, "I'd like you to apologize for your behaviour earlier."

Martin sighed. "I'm sorry, Louisa, but why did you have to tell him about me? You know I hate being the centre of gossip."

"I didn't talk about you to Elliot. I only told him that I was married to the village GP. I'm sure he heard other stories from the villagers."

"And James? You obviously mentioned him."

"Yes, Martin, I did. It would be bit odd to not talk about your children, don't you think?"

"Yes. It's just, when he was next to you I kept thinking about your friend Danny and the last time he was here."

"Danny? Danny Steele?"

Martin nodded. "How he tried to interfere in our marriage - to try and convince you that I wasn't worthy of you."

Louisa stood up and walked around to stand behind him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek against his, she said, "Martin, you have nothing to be jealous about. Elliot won't come between us - I promise. I won't let anything happen. In fact, I've been quite clear with him to whom I belong."

"Mm."

She patted his arm reassuringly. "Now come to bed. It's late and I miss you."

"In just a few minutes. I want to finish this last part." He leaned over his desk and, like the surgeon he used to be, expertly resumed cleaning the tiny gears.

Louisa rolled her eyes. Honestly, she thought. He was like a child sometimes. But she smiled as the little boy she seldom saw emerged from her husband. Reaching down, she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Louisa, please, that's very distracting," he said with a hint of irritation.

"Wouldn't you rather come upstairs with me than play with your clock?" she purred in his ear. He set down the small tool and straightened his back. Louisa toyed with the rim of his ear.

Martin could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He inhaled a breath as he felt her cool fingers touch the exposed skin of his chest. "Louisa . . ." his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought.

She took hold of his hand and pulled him to his feet. Leaning up, she kissed him gently and snaked her arms around his middle. "C'mon, we have holiday preparations to talk about."

"But-but, Louisa," he sputtered, "you just . . ."

Louisa craned her neck as she looked up at him. "I what?"

"You were . . . We were just - you implied that we're going to . . ."

Her smile widened as she listened to him stumble over his words. He was a doctor after all. So why did the word _sex_ cause him such discomfort? It was just one of his little quirks she found to be endearing.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You mean make love?"

He glanced away from her for a moment, feeling his cheeks start to flush. "Mm."

"We could," she replied nonchalantly, "but it is getting rather late, don't you think?"

He cleared his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this uncomfortable in front of her. "Right. Yes, it is."

Dropping her arms from around his waist, Louisa grasped his hand and led him out of the consulting room, flicking the light switch in the process. "I was joking about the holiday preparations, Martin."

"Mm."

"We can talk about it in the morning over breakfast instead."

Martin scrunched his nose. He groaned internally as he followed his wife up the stairs.

 **Author's note: Starting next week I will be on holiday (vacation) so I probably won't update for a few weeks. I hope this chapter was good enough to get you through until the next one.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi everyone! I'm terribly sorry for the super long wait. I won't lie, I had a bit of writer's block, but I'm doing my best to try and write a little everyday. I am hopeful that I can get the next chapter posted sometime this weekend. I continue to thank those of you that have been giving me feedback, I really appreciate it - as well as your patience!**

Chapter Twelve

The next morning at breakfast, Martin eyed his wife from across the table. She had yet to start nattering on about her holiday preparations. She was engrossed in feeding James, and Martin was hoping she may have forgotten. Feeling content at the moment, he looked back down at his medical journal.

"Such a good boy!" Louisa cooed to James. She wiped his mouth with his bib and the boy let out a laugh.

"Mum!" James cried out as he reached for the plastic spoon in her hand.

"You want to give it a go?" Louisa asked her son. "Then you have to promise not to make a mess." She handed James the spoon and he happily stuck it into his bowl.

With James occupied for the time being, Louisa turned to her husband. "You know I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice to have a real Christmas tree this year?"

Martin let out a sigh. So much for being let off the hook. Looking up at her he replied, "But Louisa they're messy; sap and stray pine needles everywhere."

"Martin, it's Christmas. It'll be fun to go and pick out a tree. Then we can decorate it, make some memories. Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Martin turned to face James. His breakfast was plastered all over his face. "I don't know."

"Will you at least think about it?"

He let out a breath. "Yes, I suppose, I'll think about it."

Louisa smiled. "Good. Then how about Christmas dinner?"

"Isn't it a bit early to be planning all this?" he interjected.

Louisa furrowed her brow. "Christmas Day is in two weeks, Martin. You can't prepare everything last minute. I've already talked with Ruth about it, and she's content to come spend Christmas here with us. I just need some input on the menu."

Martin scrunched his nose. "Louisa, I'm really not the person to be discussing this with."

Louisa raised her brows as she scrutinised him from across the table. "I just thought I'd run the idea by you first. Otherwise, if you don't help, then you'll just have to settle with whatever I prepare."

Martin glanced back down at his medical journal. Why does she always have to do that? he wondered. She was always trying to force him into doing things she knew he disliked. He was reminded of something Dr. Timoney said during one of their sessions: how Louisa tended to ask things of him that she knew he'd struggle to complete. "Are you afraid I'll disappoint you?" he asked, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"What? I'm not sure what you're getting at, Martin."

"It was what Dr. Timoney said at one of our sessions. You ask me to do things you know I'll struggle to complete. You're always trying to force me to do things that I abhor. And I just think that's . . ." He paused, searching for the right adjective.

Louisa could feel the anger simmering inside her. How could they, even in the most mundane conversation, easily get mixed up in these petty rows. "What?"

"I was going to say _unfair_."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "I need you to trust me, Louisa - trust my judgment. When you force me into things I feel like I'm not good enough for you. That maybe you feel trapped with me."

Louisa reached over and placed her hand atop his. "Oh, Martin, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I try not not to force you to do things. I guess I can't help it. And you're more than good enough for me. It's just, well, sometimes I get flustered by your odd behaviour, that's all."

Martin's eyes softened as he gazed at her from across the table. "I just want you to be happy, Louisa; more than anything."

Louisa squeezed his hand. "I know. You do make me happy, Martin. I feel loved when I'm with you."

He inhaled a sharp breath. "Mm."

She patted his hand. "Now that's enough stalling. Back to the matter at hand. The Christmas Day dinner. What do you think?"

"What about it?"

"The _menu_ , Mar-tin. I don't want to spend hours preparing a Christmas dinner only to have you complaining. So, any requests, Doctor?"

Martin tugged on his ear, at a loss for words. "Um, I'd have to do some research. I'll get back to you on it."

Louisa tilted her head. "So I'll be expecting a full report by next week, then?"

Martin furrowed his brow for a moment until he caught on to her words. "Oh, right, you were making a joke."

"Yes." She smiled at him. "You know, you're getting much better at picking up on jokes."

"Mm," he grunted. "I can tell because of the slight quirk of your lips."

Louisa's smile widened. He was paying attention to her. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's . . . good. You have a beautiful smile, Louisa. And I never tire of seeing it."

Her insides melted at his kind words. This was the man she loved. "Thank you, Martin."

"Da-ee!" James suddenly cried out, whacking his plastic spoon down on his father's medical journal.

"Oh, no, no!" Martin exclaimed as he looked down at his soiled periodical. He then turned to his son, who gave him a wonky, innocent grin.

"Oh, Mar-tin!" Louisa huffed. "James didn't mean to. He was just playing, weren't you, sweetheart?" She pried the spoon from her son's sturdy fingers and proceeded to clean his face.

With a curled lip, Martin grabbed the towel from the counter and wiped away the splatters of mushy oatmeal. The next few pages were stained through and Martin let out a sigh then closed the journal. "My first patient will be here soon," he announced, standing from his chair and collecting their used breakfast dishes.

"You'll think about that list for Christmas dinner, won't you?" she asked him.

"Yes." He placed the dishes in the sink.

"And the tree?"

Martin let out an impatient sigh. "Yes."

"Alright. Well, have a good day."

He ducked his head and tugged at his ear. "Yes, um, you too."

She gave him a brief smile before he turned and headed under the stairs towards his consulting room. Louisa looked back to her son, shaking her head. "Oh, James. We really need to teach your daddy how to have fun, don't we?"

Upon hearing his father's name, James squealed, "Da-ee!"

"That's right. Do you think we should get him something really special for Christmas this year?" She finished wiping James's face then tickled his cheek. James let out an incoherent babble and Louisa smiled at him. Hoisting him out of his high chair, she whispered to him, "It'll be our little secret. How about that?"

James placed one of his hands on Louisa's cheek. "Mum!"

Louisa combed her fingers through his light hair and kissed the side of his head. "Now, how about we get you changed before Janice arrives, hmm?" she said, heading towards the stairs.

. . .

Later that afternoon, Louisa was making her way down Fore Street from the school when she ran into Al coming from the opposite direction.

"Hi, Louiser!" the young man greeted her.

Louisa adjusted the strap of the school bag that was slung over her shoulder. "Oh, hi, Al! How are you?"

"Oh, you know, not too bad," he said, stopping and scratching at the back of his neck.

"How's the B&B? I haven't heard much from Ruth recently."

Al looked around for a moment before returning his gaze to the headmistress. "A little slow at the moment. But with Christmas comin' up, we're hopin' we might get a few bookings."

Louisa smiled at him. She always liked Al. He was sort of a neutral force when it came to most of the villagers. "Well, it sounds promising. I'm sure you'll get a few families flocking in from the city."

He scratched his chin and sighed. "I hope so. I mean, the winter's been pretty slow and Dad's doin' his best with his whiskey . . ."

"Well, if you're in need of business maybe Martin and I can spend a few nights at the farm. It would be nice to get away and spend some time outside the village for once."

A grin lit up Al's face. "Oh, thanks, Louiser. That would be great - that is, if you can convince the doc to tag along."

Louisa chuckled. "I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him. Oh, wait, Al!" she said, reaching out to touch his arm before he could continue on. "I wanted to ask if you knew of any good places to get a Christmas tree - one that we could pick out ourselves?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. There's Mr. Greenfield over in Wadebridge. He has some pretty good ones, but he kinda tends to raise the prices." He thought for a moment then snapped his fingers. "But the trees down by the lake at the farm are just as good. I could help ya cut one down if ya wanted."

"Oh, Al, could you? That would be wonderful." Her smile faded at the thought of dragging Martin into the woods to cut down a tree. "The only problem will be getting Martin to come with. He's not exactly the outdoor type, is he?"

Al chuckled. "Yeah. But he did save Mark Mylow's life. When he had to track us down in the forest."

"Oh, right. Gosh, I completely forgot about that. I wonder how Mark is. I haven't heard from him since he left."

Al shrugged. "Dunno. But I hope he's doin' okay."

Louisa gave the young man another smile. "Yeah." She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, I need to get going. Janice will be wondering where I am. It was nice seeing you again, Al. And we'll definitely think about your offer on that Christmas tree."

Al smiled. "Sure thing. Cheers, Louiser!"

"Bye, Al." She gave him a little wave before continuing on down the street.

When Louisa entered the surgery from the kitchen door, she could hear her son's laughter coming from the living room. She dropped her bag down by the pantry and hung up her coat and scarf.

"What do we have here?" she said, stepping down from the kitchen into the living room.

Janice looked up from the children's book she was holding. "Just finishing our lesson on farm animals." She turned to James, who was seated on the floor in front of her. "James, what's this animal?" Janice pointed to a cartoon drawing of a cow.

"Ow!" the boy shrieked, slapping his hand down on the picture.

Janice smiled. "That's right. It's a cow," she said, stressing the _k_ sound.

"Oh, James," Louisa said as she kneeled down beside him. James turned to face his mother and buried his face in her stomach. Louisa picked him up and planted him in her lap. She looked at Janice and the pile of books by her side. "You taught him this?"

Janice nodded. "Yep. He's getting there. We've mastered farm animals but he's havin' a bit of trouble with sea creatures."

Louisa smoothed James's hair into place. "I don't blame you," she said, glancing down at her son. "There are so many of them out there. But Daddy loves fish; maybe he can work with you, hmm?"

At the mention of his father's name, James shouted, "Da-ee!"

Janice started cleaning up the piles of toys and books. "It seems that's his favourite word. Every time he'd hear the doc's voice he'd yell _Daddy_."

Louisa smiled. "He looks up to Martin. He may only be a year and a half old, but he just adores his daddy."

"I bet the doc loves that."

"Martin may not say it, but he has this certain way that he handles James. The two of them have a special bond. And in a way, I think James realises that."

Janice finished fastening her backpack and stood up from the floor. "Are you sure you don't mind giving me the next couple of weeks off? Because if you need me, I'll be around to help out."

Louisa shook her head. "It's not a problem. You deserve some time off. It's Christmas in a few weeks."

"Thank you, Louisa - especially for letting me take care of James. It's been a rewarding experience so far."

"You're welcome."

The childminder ruffled James's hair then waved at Louisa before exiting the kitchen door.

Louisa leaned down to rest her chin on the crown of James's head. "In a way, this'll be your first Christmas, James. You were only a few months old last Christmas, and we didn't do much to celebrate the holidays then." She lifted her head and looked down at his bright blue eyes. "But this year's different. Your daddy is trying really hard to be the father that you deserve. He loves you, James Henry. Even if he doesn't say it all the time, he treasures you, just like I do." She placed a kiss to the side of his head

Martin just dismissed his last patient for the day and was finishing up his notes when he heard his son's exuberant laughter coming from the living room. He usually didn't mind when Janice occupied James in the surgery, but unfortunately all the noise that comes with a growing toddler tends to be distracting at times. He dropped his biro and stood up.

He heard the door to the kitchen click shut and quietly stepped out from the hallway under the stairs. Louisa was sitting on the floor of the living room, her legs curled under her with James in her lap. Her back was to him, unaware of his presence in the kitchen. She started talking to James in that gentle, mothering tone of hers. He listened intently.

Martin's chest swelled when he heard Louisa say that he loved James. And she was right, he did. When Louisa first informed him of her pregnancy, he wasn't prepared for how much his life was going to change. Though James was never planned, his son was the best thing to happen to him - and Louisa, of course. The two of them meant everything to him. He took another step and, forgetting his relative position in the kitchen, bumped his knee on the arm of one of the table chairs. The noise caused Louisa to turn around.

"Martin," she breathed out, turning to find him bent over, holding his kneecap. "Are you okay?"

"Mm," he grunted. "I'm fine."

"How long have you been standing there?" She stood up and shifted James to her hip.

Martin swung his leg back and forth before straightening his back. "Just a minute. I heard James and, um, the noise . . ."

Louisa stepped up into the kitchen. "Sorry, were we too loud?"

He shook his head. "No. It's, um, it doesn't matter."

"Are you finished with patients for the day?" she asked, walking around the table and setting James down in his high chair.

"Yes. I was just finishing some notes."

"Oh. Okay. Would you like to help with dinner? When you're finished with your notes, of course."

"Mm, yes. That would be good."

"I was thinking, maybe some soup and a tossed salad. Does that work for you?"

Martin reached up and tugged at his ear. "Yes, that's fine."

"Good."

When they sat down to dinner, Martin was his usual quiet self. Instead of eating his soup, he mostly just stirred it around with his spoon. Louisa watched him, trying not to think too much of her husband's silence.

"I ran into Al today on my home from school," Louisa announced.

Martin looked up from his bowl of soup. "Mm."

"I asked about Christmas trees and he said he'd be willing to cut down a tree we pick out over at the farm."

"I see."

Louisa let go of her spoon, letting it sink into the dark broth. "What's the matter, Martin? Ever since I came home you've been so quiet."

He sucked down a spoonful of his soup before meeting his wife's eyes. "It's nothing."

Louisa let out a sigh. Please don't pull away from me, she thought. "Martin, please talk to me. Tell me what's troubling you."

Martin dropped his spoon, resulting in a shriek as the metal utensil hit the sides of the ceramic bowl. "Nothing, Louisa! There's nothing wrong with me! Can't I just eat my dinner in silence?!" He stood up and wiped his mouth with his napkin then dropped it down on the table. He turned and headed towards the stairs.

Louisa watched his retreating form. Was it her? Was she too pushy? She only tried coaxing him into talking to her. Did something happen today that she wasn't aware of? She decided it was best to just give him some time to himself.

Turning to James, she said, "I wonder what's gotten into him." She handed James another cube of cheese and a cracker. For a minute she watched her son as he crushed his cracker in his hand. Martin was very hard to read on the outside. And she was always doing her best to try and understand him, but there was just some part of him that he refused to share with her.

Once she had the kitchen cleaned up, Louisa ventured upstairs. Their bedroom door was closed so she knocked lightly.

"Yes?" came Martin's voice, his anger from earlier at the dinner table now vanished.

"Martin, can I come in?"

There was a pause before he finally agreed. "Yes."

Louisa opened the door, guiding James in by his hand. "James wanted to see you."

Martin was lying on the bed when she entered, facing away from the door. He rolled on to his other side, seeing James toddle towards him. The boy made it to the edge of the bed and then latched on to the dangling sides of the duvet. He tried pulling himself up, but the bed frame and mattress was too high for him. Louisa hooked her arm under her son's bum and gave him a gentle push. James levered himself the rest of the way on to the bed and crawled over to Martin.

Plopping down by Martin's chest, James rolled on to his back and looked up at his father. "Da-ee!" he said, raising his arms in the air.

Martin let a stream of air escape his nose. He reached out a hand and James latched his small fingers around Martin's middle finger. "Hello, James."

Louisa sat down on the opposite side of the bed. "Do you want to give him his bath tonight? It might help take your mind off things."

"Mm, yes."

"Bat!" James shouted, reaching his other hand out to touch his father's nose.

"That's right, James," Louisa said. "Daddy's going to give you your bath tonight."

James gurgled and squirmed on the bed. "Bat!" he repeated once more.

Louisa smiled. "He's really getting more confident with talking. Did you know Janice has been teaching him all the farm animals?"

Martin turned his attention from his son towards his wife. "No."

"Well she has. He's a smart little boy, Martin. You should be proud."

He grunted. "I am proud of him."

Louisa continued to smile at him. Leaning over, she ran her ringers through the hair above his ear and then followed the curve of his cheek. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be there. I won't say anything if you don't want me to. I just need to know that you're not shutting me out again."

Martin let out a long breath. "Okay."

"Thank you." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

A little while later, Martin finally returned to their bedroom. Louisa was sitting up in bed reading one of her novels. She glanced up at him when she heard the wooden door click shut. "That took a while," she said, placing her bookmark then setting the novel down on her nightstand.

"Mm. We read the same book - three times." He removed his jacket and hung it up in the wardrobe. His tie and shirt quickly followed suit. Stepping out of his pants and pulling on his pyjamas, Martin unfastened his watch and set it down on his bedside table. He slid into bed beside Louisa, shifting himself up against the headboard.

"Was it the one about the talking fire engine?"

"Mm. I don't know why he enjoys it so much. A fire engine can't exhibit emotion, let alone speak."

"It's just a children's story, Martin," she huffed out. "He'll eventually learn that inanimate objects can't talk."

"Mm." He turned to look at her. "I haven't had the chance to ask, but how was your day?"

"Mm, pretty good. Not an overly exciting day, but I was granted another chance to make an appeal about constructing a gym installation in the courtyard."

"That's good, right?"

Louisa shifted closer to him. "Yes, it is. I have a very persuading argument."

Martin continued to gaze at her. "You know I love you, right?"

Louisa's face turned serious. "Yes. Martin, what is this all about?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Well, earlier, when you were sitting with James, I - I heard what you said to him."

"Oh."

"And, um, you were right. I do love James - very much. But you're just as important to me as him."

"Oh, Martin." Louisa turned and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Martin wasn't expecting such an emotional outburst. He placed a hand in between his wife's shoulder blades and held her to him. After a minute, she finally pulled away. "Thank you for saying that, Martin."

"Mm."

She turned on her side and let her head rest against his shoulder. "Can we discuss the Christmas tree again?"

Martin was silent. He felt Louisa's slim fingers curl around his hand. He turned his head to look at her.

"What's wrong, Martin? Is this what upset you at dinner?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

Again, he was quiet before he finally answered, "It's all this Christmas stuff. I've never done any of it - cut down a tree and decorate it. I guess I'm just afraid I'll disappoint you - that I'll muck everything up." He felt her grip on his hand tighten.

"Martin, I'm sorry. But what about Joan and your uncle Phil? Didn't they do any of that with you?"

"I can't remember exactly, but I never spent Christmas with them. I was usually at home for the holidays but I was never allowed to touch any of the decorations. And then the next day I was sent back to school."

Louisa reached up and touched his cheek. "Martin, you won't muck anything up. There's no right or wrong way to celebrate Christmas. We'll start our own tradition - the three of us."

Martin nodded. "You always know how to make things better for me. I appreciate that, Louisa."

"You deserve it, Martin. James and I are here for you. We always will be."

Martin sucked in a breath. "I'm willing to get a Christmas tree. Although I disapprove of bringing in a live tree, which could harbour microorganisms, by the way."

"Oh, Martin, it's just a tree. And James will love it."

"Louisa, he's a year and a half old. Most likely he won't remember any of it."

"Mar-tin? Shush! He doesn't have to remember it. It'll be a new set of memories for us to share with him when he's older."

"I see."

Louisa rolled her eyes. Oh, why did he always have mention James's inability to form memories? It was the doctor in him, she was sure. "So, this weekend, then? We can head over to the farm and cut down that tree?"

"Yes, this weekend is fine. Just don't think I'm going to be the one to cut it down."

Louisa smiled. "Of course not. I told you, Al is willing to do it."

"Fine. Then it's settled."

"Yes. Thank you - for agreeing to do this."

"You're welcome."

Louisa leaned over and kissed him gently. "Goodnight, Martin."

"Mm, goodnight." He turned and switched off his bedside lamp then situated himself down on his back. He felt Louisa immediately turn and snuggle up to his side, draping an arm across his stomach and resting her cheek against his shoulder. It was an embrace he looked forward to almost every night. He felt safe and loved with her close by his side.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Bright and early Saturday morning, the Ellinghams ventured out to Portwenn Fishing Holidays. The dirt road kicked up a cloud of dust as the familiar silver Lexus came to a stop next to the chicken coop. Martin stepped out of the vehicle and went to open the back door. Ducking into the car, he unbuckled James Henry. Louisa came around the other side to slip a knit cap on James's head.

Al was waiting for them at the front door of the farmhouse, dressed in his navy blue coveralls, a canvas coat that was left unzipped and a pair of workman's gloves adorning his hands. "Mornin'," he greeted the trio.

"Morning, Al," Louisa replied, crossing her arms. "Ooh, it's colder than I thought it was going to be today."

"Yeah. A chance of some storms too, I think." Al gave Martin a grin as he came up beside Louisa. "Mornin', Doc. Glad you could tag along."

Martin narrowed his eyes at the young man. "Yes."

"Right. Um, this way, then." Picking up the axe that was leaning against the side of the house, Al directed them towards the lake.

"So we got all kinds of trees," Al said, gesturing to the woods that ran along the edge of the water.

Louisa followed, but sticking close to Martin's side. James was safely perched in his father's right arm, trying to see in every direction at once. It was an unfamiliar environment for the toddler, but he seemed to be enjoying it tremendously.

"Ooh, how about that one?!" Louisa shouted, pointing a finger at a cluster of trees.

"You have to be more specific, Louisa," Martin said.

"I don't know their scientific names, or whatever it's called. They're all just trees to me."

"Mm. Well that one there's a Douglas fir." Martin jabbed a finger at one of the pine trees. "If I'm correct, those are usually one of the most common types of Christmas trees."

Louisa gave her husband a sideways glance. "Hmm, is that so?" Then she looked at James, who was waving his arms back and forth. "What if we let James decide?"

Martin furrowed his brow. "What? Louisa, I don't think he grasps the concept of a Christmas tree."

Louisa blew out a frustrated breath. "I know, Martin. But let's just let him walk around and the first tree he touches we'll get. How about that?"

He thought for a moment. "Mm, best not. He could wander into some poison ivy, or worse, eat something he shouldn't."

Louisa sighed. Initially, she knew this little outing wasn't going to go smoothly. But he was willing to accompany her. And she wanted to show him that she had her complete trust in him when it came to activities he disliked. "Then how should we do it, Martin? You seem to be the expert in trees . . ."

"It's just basic dendrology," he muttered to himself.

Louisa squinted as she looked up at him through lowered eyelids. "Martin, please? Just try and enjoy yourself."

"I am."

"Oh. Well, good."

They continued walking along the perimeter of the woods. "How about this one, eh?" Al suggested as he came to a halt beside a six foot Fraser fir.

"Oh, it's lovely," Louisa gushed, running her gloved fingers through its long needles. "Martin?" She turned to look at her husband.

"Hmm? Yes, I suppose it's . . . nice."

Louisa smiled in triumph. "Good. We'll take this one, Al."

Al gave a nod of his head. "Sure thing. You might want to stand back a bit." He waited until the area was clear before pulling the axe back and swinging it up against the trunk of the tree. Upon impact, pieces of bark ricocheted in all directions. It only took Al three more swings before the tree finally fell to its side.

"Uh, Doc, could I get some help pulling it back up to the farm?" Al asked.

Martin scrunched his nose. He wasn't dressed for carrying a tree. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Uh, just take hold of a sturdy branch and pull."

With much reluctance, Martin reached out and took hold of a thick branch. Following Al's lead, Martin began pulling the tree along the grass. It was difficult to maintain a strong grip as his winter gloves were not made for this sort of work.

Louisa let James down on the ground and instantly regretted it. He made a beeline for Martin and she had to rush over and grab him before he got in the way. "No, James," she scolded him. "We don't want you to get hurt." James started to cry and kick his legs at being confined to his mother's arms. Louisa let out a sigh and set him back down on the ground. "You need to stay with Mummy, then. Alright?"

James hiccuped and Louisa wiped away his tears. She took his small hand and the two of them walked along the edge of the lake.

"Bat!" James cried out, pointing towards the water with his small fingers.

Louisa chuckled. "No, James. We can't take a bath in the lake. Otherwise, Daddy will have a fit. C'mon, shall we see if we can't beat Daddy and Al back to the car?"

James looked up at his mother and smiled. "Da-ee!" He tugged on Louisa's hand and she had to hunch over in order to keep up with her toddling son.

Martin became distracted as he watched his wife and son meander ahead of him and Al. He smiled slightly, slowing his movements.

"Hey, Doc?!" Al shouted.

Martin snapped out of his trance. "What?"

Al jerked his head in the direction of the farm. "C'mon, we're almost there."

The two picked up the pace, and by the time they made it back to the farmhouse, Louisa and James were admiring the chickens.

"Oh, Louisa, don't let him touch them," Martin said as he passed by.

"I'm not." Louisa placed her hand on the top of James's head. "We're just feeding them."

Martin scowled and let out a grunt. "Make share he washes his hands thoroughly before we leave."

"Yes, Martin, we will." Louisa lowered herself back down to James's height, where he was standing next to the wire fence. "Okay, one more handful." She held the white bucket out and James stuck his hand in. She smiled as she watched him throw the tiny grains through the gaps in the fence. Most of it landed down by his feet and he squealed in delight when a group of chickens swarmed the pile of food.

Louisa stood up and held out her hand. "Okay, James, that's it. C'mon."

James let go of the wire fence and turned to face his mother. "Hen!" He pointed at the chickens.

Louisa nodded. "Yep, some of them are hens. C'mon, young man. I bet Daddy needs our help with that tree."

James's face lit up and he turned away and started running towards the barn, shouting, "Da-ee!"

Louisa couldn't help but laugh. He was so cute in his blue jacket and matching knit cap. He was running as fast as his little legs would carry him. Suddenly, James lost his balance when he stepped on to the dirt drive. He fell face down into the ground and let out a loud wail.

Louisa rushed over to her son and picked him up. She examined his face, noting a cut just above his eyebrow that was beginning to bleed. "Shh, shh, it's okay, James. Martin!" she shouted, hoping to get her husband's attention.

"What's happened?" Martin asked, jogging up to her.

"He lost his balance and hit the ground pretty hard. His forehead's bleeding."

"What? Let me see." He tried turning James's head towards him, but the boy kept his face buried in Louisa's neck, gasping through his sobs. He gestured for her to hand over James.

The intensity of the child's cries increased as he was transferred from one parent to the other. Martin placed his fingers on James's cheek and the contact seemed to calm him. He continued to whimper but this time allowed his father to get a better glimpse of his forehead.

The cut on James's head was small, and the thin smear of blood that was running down his temple caused Martin to look away.

"Martin, are you okay?" Louisa asked, noticing his face turning pale.

He cleared his throat. "Mm, yes. Um, tell Al to get some antiseptic and a plaster."

"Okay." Louisa disappeared to the barn in search of Al.

Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Martin pulled out his white handkerchief and started wiping away the blood from his son's face. "There, there, James." He patted the boy's back as his cries grew softer.

A minute later Al and Louisa returned with the supplies Martin requested. "Here you go, Doc," Al said, handing him the bottle of antiseptic. "Poor little guy."

Looking down at the soiled handkerchief in his hand, he asked Louisa, "Do you have any tissues in your purse?"

"Um, I think so." She went to the Lexus and pulled out her purse. "Yep, here we go."

"Thank you," he said, taking the tissue from her. "You might want to hold on to him while I do this."

Louisa placed her hands around James's torso while Martin used the tissue and antiseptic to clean the cut. James twisted away as he didn't like the slight sting of the alcohol on his open wound. "Shh," Martin gently soothed. "We're almost done." He pulled open the plaster and carefully applied it to his son's forehead.

After Martin finished, Louisa held James to her chest and ran her fingers down his back. "It's okay, James. It's all over. You were very brave."

Al stepped over and tickled James's cheek. "He's a tough one, eh, Doc?"

"Mm." Martin handed the young man the bottle of antiseptic.

"I just need a few more minutes securing the tree to the roof of the car. Then I can follow you guys back to the surgery."

"Thanks, Al," Louisa said, giving him a brief smile before he turned away. She let out a long breath and looked up at Martin. "That was terrifying."

"Mm. It's just a superficial wound. He should be fine in a few days." Martin placed his broad palm on James's head.

"You didn't vomit."

"No. There wasn't that much blood, but . . ."

Louisa's features softened. "I know." She sighed. "What a day, huh?"

Martin glanced down at his watch. "It's only half past eleven."

"I know, but still." They stood there for a few minutes in silence, relieved that James's mishap wasn't serious. The wind started to pick up and ugly dark clouds were closing in on the area.

"Ok, the tree's ready to go," Al announced, standing next to the Lexus.

"Great! Thank you so much, Al," Louisa said.

"Sure thing. I'm glad to have helped."

After buckling a now calm James into his car seat, Martin and Louisa took a moment to relax. "Well done," Louisa praised as she turned to look at him.

"Mm. I only had to apply a plaster."

"I know, but it's different when it's your own child. You were able to calm him, Martin."

"I, um, I was just trying to do what any other parent would have done."

Louisa reached over and grasped his hand. "And that's what makes you a good father, Martin."

Martin looked away from her and out the windscreen. Al was checking to make sure the rope securing the tree to the roof of his car was tight enough. When he was done, he turned to face the Lexus and gave them a thumbs up. "I'm trying to learn."

Louisa gave his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "I know. And you're doing very well."

Martin let out a grunt then started the ignition. Once the Lexus and Al's car were out of view, Buddy scampered around the bend of the drive with James Henry's knit cap between his teeth.

. . .

After Martin and Al managed to get the Christmas tree into the living room of the surgery, Louisa had settled James down for an afternoon nap, who was more than tired from the ordeal he suffered earlier.

"He's asleep," Louisa announced, entering the living room.

Martin turned around to face her. "Mm. I wasn't thinking earlier. We don't really have any, um, decorations for the tree."

Louisa came up to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. "That's alright. We don't have to decorate it right away."

They stood for a moment in silence and Martin scrunched his nose. "It smells."

"Oh, Mar-tin," she huffed. "You'll get used to it."

Martin was about to retaliate when they heard scratching coming from the kitchen door. "What on earth?" Martin went to the door and opened it, allowing Buddy to scurry inside. "No, no, no!" he shouted at the dog while clapping his hands. "Get out!"

"Martin, wait a minute. He's got something."

Buddy hurried towards Louisa and dropped the knit cap at her feet. She bent down to pick up the slobbery material. "It's James's hat," she said, holding it up for Martin to see.

"How on earth did he get it?"

Louisa shrugged. "I don't know. It must have fallen off James's head while he was running. I was so worried about him I didn't notice his hat was missing."

Martin eyed the blue knit cap and curled his lip. "It needs to be washed."

"I know. I just can't believe Buddy would come all this way."

"Mm. Now he can leave." He looked around for the little canine and found him scratching at the tree, sending pine needles floating to the ground. "No! Stop that instantly! This is my final warning!" he shouted.

Louisa put a hand up to her face to stifle her laughter. "I'll take care of him. Why don't you just sit down and relax, hmm?" She patted his arm as she passed by.

Martin continued to frown. "Fine. I'm just sick and tired of that stupid dog."

Louisa bent down by the tree and scooped Buddy up in her arms. "If you're so keen to get rid of him, why don't you make some flyers to see if we can't find him a new owner?"

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. "We tried getting him rehoused. That didn't work out, now did it?"

Louisa sighed as she carried Buddy towards the kitchen door. "We'll find someone who wants him." Opening the door, Louisa set Buddy down on the stone terrace. The canine let out a whimper and bent down on his haunches, resting his chin on his front paws. Louisa felt bad for the dog. If it wasn't for Martin's hatred of animals she wouldn't mind keeping him. She thought for a moment. Grabbing a bowl from the hutch, she filled it with water and set it outside. "There you go," she said to Buddy, scratching the top of his head. "Thank you for bringing back James's hat." Buddy greedily slurped up the water and Louisa gave him one more pat on his head then closed the door.

"Did you feed that dog?" Martin asked once she sat down next to him on the sofa.

"No. I just gave him a bowl of water."

"God."

"What? Martin, a dog needs water too."

"Yes, I know."

Louisa grasped his hand. "When did all this start anyway? Your hatred for animals? I thought you enjoyed the farm animals your Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil had?"

"I did. But that was a long time ago."

She nudged his shoulder with her arm. "Then what? Did you have a traumatic experience or something?"

Martin shook his head. "Not exactly. Look, Louisa, I really don't see the point of discussing this. I don't like animals because they're dirty and they smell. And they can be carriers for a number of diseases and pathogens."

"Fine. I understand."

"Thank you."

For a while, the two of them just stared at the bare tree occupying the corner of the room, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet. But soon enough, James Henry's cries could be heard coming from upstairs. Martin moved to stand up, but Louisa put a hand on his thigh. "I'll go."

"Alright."

A few minutes later, Louisa returned with James. She sat back down next to Martin with James in her lap.

"He looks flushed," Martin said, placing the back's of two fingers on James's forehead.

Louisa looked down at their son. "He looks okay to me. He's probably still tired."

"Mm. His head's a bit warm. I'll keep an eye on him." He lightly ran his thumb over the white plaster covering his son's wound.

James let out a yawn and stretched his arms out towards his father. "Do you want Daddy to play with you, James?" Louisa asked, smoothing out the hair that was beginning to curl behind his ear.

"Da-ee!" James excitedly clapped his hands.

"Martin?" Louisa looked over at her husband with a raised brow.

"Mm." He took hold of James and set him down on the floor.

Louisa stood up from the sofa. "I'll just get lunch started then."

"Yes." He watched her for a second as she made her way to the kitchen. Then, returning his attention to James, he kneeled down on the floor and grabbed the box of building blocks from the playpen.

Louisa could feel his eyes on her as she walked by him to the kitchen. It made her pulse race to know he still found her attractive; that she had such a powerful effect on him. She started pulling out ingredients from the refrigerator for sandwiches. When she crossed the room to the counter, she glimpsed Martin sitting on the floor next to James. He was stacking blocks and counting them out loud, apparently trying to teach James to count. She smiled to herself then turned back to her lunch preparations.

. . .

On Sunday morning, the Ellinghams were greeted by a visit from Ruth. It was another rainy winter day in Portwenn, and Louisa quickly ushered Ruth in from the cold.

"What a surprise," Louisa said, closing the kitchen door. "We weren't expecting company."

Ruth looked around at the messy kitchen. "Apparently not," she replied in her dry tone.

"What's in the box?"

Ruth pulled out a chair and set the box down. "Some of Joan's Christmas decorations. Al told me the three of you stopped by the farm yesterday to cut down a tree. I remembered there was some old Christmas stuff from when we cleaned out the barn. I thought you and Martin might want it."

"Oh, Ruth, thank you." Louisa opened the box, pulling out several tins and a large, delicate star. Peeking inside one of the tins, Louisa remarked, "Oh my, this is gorgeous. Are you sure you don't want to keep it?" Louisa held up a golden ornament in the shape of a wreath.

Ruth shook her head. "No, they're yours now. I have a few of my own already."

"I don't know what to say, Ruth. But thank you, again."

"You're very welcome. I'm sure they'll be put to good use."

Louisa placed the ornament back in its tin box. "I'll have to show Martin when he gets back."

Ruth furrowed her brow. "Where is he off to in this weather?"

"Oh, I sent him out to Wadebridge for some new lights. I thought today might be a good day to get to work on that tree." She pointed towards the bare conifer sitting in the corner of the living room.

"Hmm, I see. And my great nephew?"

"He's upstairs - asleep."

"It's almost ten. He shouldn't still be sleeping."

"I know. But he had a bad night; was up half the night crying. Martin checked him over before he left. His temperature's a little high. He said to give him some Calpol when he wakes up."

"Rather unfortunate."

"Yes. I just hope James isn't getting sick. Otherwise, I'll never hear the end of it from Martin."

Ruth cracked a brief smile. "He is a stickler for good health."

"Yes, which can have its positives and negatives."

Ruth let out a small chuckle. "Well, I better let you crack on, then."

"You're not staying?"

"No, I have a business meeting with Al and Bert later today."

"Oh. Is the B&B not doing as well as you'd hoped?"

"Yes and no. I expected the winter months to be quiet, but we haven't had a guest in over a month. Al tells me he has another proposal, so we'll see how that goes."

Louisa smiled at the elderly woman, following her to the door. "Well I told Al the other day that Martin and I would be happy to stay at the farm for a few days."

"And by _we_ I assume you?"

Louisa nodded. "I haven't exactly told him yet."

"Well, best of luck to you then, dear." Ruth opened the door, allowing a gust of wind to enter the house.

Louisa gave the woman a smile and a wave before shutting the door. She turned back to the box of Christmas decorations and sighed. I wonder how Martin will react when he sees all this, she thought. Louisa placed everything back in the box and set it down on the floor by the tree. She returned to the kitchen to begin tidying up.

Louisa was in the middle of doing the washing up, when she heard the kitchen door rattle open. Martin shuffled through, followed by a stream of cold air.

"Were you able to find them?" she asked, wiping her soapy hands on a towel.

Martin set several plastic bags of shopping down on the kitchen table. "I think so. You didn't exactly tell me there were so many different types of lights."

"Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have assumed you'd know what to get." She pulled out one of the boxes of lights. "Oh, they're perfect. Just what I wanted."

"Really?" He pulled off his overcoat and hung it up next to the door. "An annoying salesman told me those were the most popular kind."

Louisa moved over to his side and kissed his cheek. "Ruth stopped by just a little bit ago."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what for?"

"She dropped off a box of Joan's old Christmas decorations. She thought you might want them."

"Mm. Is James still upstairs?"

Louisa nodded. "Mmhmm."

"I better check on him, then."

A little while later, Martin was still upstairs tending to James, and Louisa was opening the boxes of lights he purchased. She was just starting to unwind a stand when Martin entered the room with James.

"There's my little sleepyhead," she cooed to her son, taking him into her arms. James laid his head down on her shoulder. "How is he?" she asked Martin, while absently rubbing James's back.

"Still warm. He was tugging at his ear. I suspect an ear infection. I'll do a proper examination once he's more awake."

Louisa turned her head and placed a kiss on James's temple. "Poor James. First, the little mishap at the farm, now an ear infection."

"Mm. I'll know more concerning the severity of the infection once I have a better look." Martin could see the concern in his wife's eyes. "It's fairly common for a child to develop an ear infection in the first few years of life, Louisa. He'll be a little fussy for a few days, but it'll eventually run its course."

Louisa handed Martin the string of lights she'd been unwinding then sat down on the sofa, James still cradled against her shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Martin asked, looking confused at the string of lights in his hand.

Louisa rolled her eyes. He could be so obtuse at times. "They go on the tree, Martin."

"Louisa, are you sure you want me to do it?"

She nodded. "Yes. You can start. We'll trade off while one of us sits with James."

"Right." He turned around to face the tree, scrutinising it from top to bottom.

Louisa could tell he needed a bit of guidance. "Start at the bottom and work your way up. Just weave the lights around the branches as best you can."

"Oh, God," he muttered to himself as he kneeled down on the floor. It took a few minutes to get the hang of it, but eventually Martin grew comfortable with the task.

James was asleep on his mother's shoulder and Louisa watched intently as her husband meticulously weaved the string of lights up and around every branch. "Martin, it's not surgery. It's just a tree. It doesn't have to be perfect."

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. "Yes, I know. We want it to look nice though, don't we?"

That was Louisa's cue to stop talking. She continued to comfort James while Martin resumed stringing the lights.

About an hour later, Martin stepped back from the tree. "Well?" he said, turning around to face Louisa.

"Let's see how it looks all lit up."

Martin bent down and plugged the lights into the socket in the wall. The tree lit up in a bright array of white, twinkling light. Louisa stood up slowly, careful not to disturb James, and wrapped her free arm around Martin's waist. "It's beautiful, Martin," she replied, looking up at him, noticing the softness of his features.

He turned his head to face her. "Mm, yes."

"You did a brilliant job." She gave him a wide smile

He cleared his throat. "Thank you." Martin could see how happy his wife was, and he felt his chest swell with emotion. He placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned down to kiss her gently. "I love you, Louisa," he said when they pulled away from each other.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

Martin looked down at the box containing his late aunt's Christmas treasures. Noticing the silver star peeking out, he said, "Should I put the star on top?"

"Of course. Go ahead, Martin."

Martin picked up the star, and using all of his six foot frame, gingerly placed the delicate star on top of the tree. The twinkling lights reflected off the silver finish of the star, making it seem as if it glowed all on its own.

"Um, do you want to put the first ornament on?" he asked her.

Louisa shook her head. "Why don't you start? They were Joan's and she was important to you."

"But you two were close as well."

"Then we'll do it together."

"Mm." Martin opened a tin and picked up the golden wreath. Each taking hold of the ornament, they hung it on a branch in the middle of the tree. Martin let out a sigh.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I guess, I just wasn't expecting I'd be doing this."

" _This_?"

"Decorating a Christmas tree with my family."

"Oh, Martin." Louisa embraced him from the side.

Martin held her against him, their son sandwiched between them. Even though it was rainy and windy outside, the atmosphere in the Ellingham household was calm and relaxed.

"Shall we continue?" Louisa pulled back to smile at him.

"Mm." Martin pulled out another tin.

Together, Martin and Louisa proceeded to hang the rest of Joan's ornaments on the tree. Afterwards, while sitting on the sofa admiring their finished product, Louisa let out a content sigh. "Thank you for doing all this, Martin."

He looked down at her. "Mm. You're welcome."

"I know all this Christmas stuff isn't really your cup of tea, but I enjoyed doing this with you."

"I, um, I enjoyed it, too."

Louisa tightened her grip on his arm. "It's just too bad James isn't feeling well."

"Mm." Martin glanced down at James, who was curled up against his chest. He lightly ran his broad palm over his son's hair. "He'll be okay."

"I know. We should start thinking about what to get him for Christmas."

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. "Does he really need more toys? He has plenty already."

"Yes, but children love Christmas morning. It'll be fun to see his face when he opens a gift for the first time, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

"Martin, it's okay for you to want James to have a better experience than you did when you were his age. It shows that you want to be a good father."

He grunted and handed James over to Louisa. "I'm going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

"Yes, please." She watched him get up and head to the kitchen. James opened his eyes and stared back at his mother. She turned him around so he could see the Christmas tree. "Look at that, James. Isn't it beautiful."

James let out an incoherent babble, reaching a small hand out towards the sparkling tree. Louisa leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "You're going to have a wonderful Christmas this year, James Henry. I can guarantee that." Standing up and shifting James to her hip, Louisa moved to the kitchen to help Martin with the tea.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

After putting James to sleep for the night, Martin pulled back the sheets and slid into bed. Louisa turned on her side, watching him. "What?" he said, feeling uncomfortable under her intense gaze.

Louisa shook her head. "Nothing."

"I see." He switched off his bedside lamp then settled down on his back, lacing his fingers together over his stomach.

Louisa shifted closer to him, laying her head down on his shoulder. "I've been thinking . . ."

Martin let out a breath. He really wasn't in the mood to talk. After having to endure James's crying the previous night, all he wanted was to fall into a deep sleep. "About what?"

"About Morwenna."

"What about her? Louisa, would you please just get to the point? I'd really like to get some sleep, if you don't mind."

Louisa reached out and grasped his right hand. "I thought we could invite her to Christmas dinner. I wanted to get your approval first before I asked her." Though she couldn't see his face clearly in the dark, she could just about picture the frown on Martin's face. He remained quiet, so Louisa pushed the idea further, "Please, Martin? Morwenna's all alone here. Her grandfather passed away a few years ago and her parents . . . well, I'm not really sure where they are. But I thought it would be nice to have her around for the holidays. You two get on well."

Martin turned his head to face his wife. "I'm not against having Morwenna over, it's just that now she's involved with Al. He's going to want to come and naturally Bert will follow."

"So we'll have a few more people than we intended. It's just one evening, Martin."

Martin blew a hiss of air from his nose. "Yes, I know."

Leaning over, Louisa kissed his cheek. "So is that a yes, then?"

"Yes," he said with much reluctance.

Louisa smiled. "Thank you."

"Mm. Can I go to sleep now?"

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze then released it. Snuggling closer to her husband's side, Louisa closed her eyes only to be awakened by James's distressing cries a moment later. "Oh, dear."

Martin let out a sigh. "I'll do it," he said, flipping back the sheets and pulling himself out of bed.

Opening the door to James's room, Martin pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a pain growing behind his eyes. He peered down at his son, who was kicking his legs and pulling at his left ear. Martin picked him up and the two sat down together in the rocking chair. James's cries grew softer now that his ear was free from the pressure of lying in his cot. He continued to whimper against his father's chest.

Martin turned James's head to the side, taking a look at the infected ear. It appeared normal - no significant change from earlier when he used his otoscope. "I know it hurts, James, but can we please let Daddy sleep?" He ran his hand over his son's hair and briefly touched the plaster on his forehead. After a few minutes, Martin's eyelids grew heavy, and eventually he drifted off to sleep.

Louisa was keeping an eye on her alarm clock. Half an hour had passed and Martin was still tending to James. She could no longer hear her son's cries and an unsettling feeling washed over her. Getting out of bed, she padded over to the nursery to investigate.

Peeking her head around the open door, Louisa smiled as she came across her husband sound asleep in the rocking chair with James cradled in his arms. Carefully, she picked up her son and laid him back down in his cot. He startled awake and began to cry once more. "Oh, James, shh. Please?"

Martin's eyes shot open as his ears picked up the sound of his son's cries. He looked down and realised James was gone. "What are you doing?" he said, noticing Louisa standing by the cot.

"I came to check on you. You've been in here for quite a while."

"Mm, sorry, I must have fallen asleep."

"That's alright. Is James okay? Did you check him over again?"

"Yes. He's just going to be fussy for the next couple of days, that's all."

Louisa glanced down at her unhappy son. "Is he in pain?"

"Yes. I mean, it's uncomfortable for him to sleep."

"Can't you give him something?"

"It's best to let the infection run it's course before administering antibiotics. From my examination earlier, it doesn't look severe. It should be over with in forty-eight hours or so."

Louisa let out a tired sigh. "I don't think I can take much more of this - all the crying, knowing he's in pain."

"Mm. What are you doing?" he asked, watching her pick up James and settle him against her shoulder.

"I'll sit with him. You have surgery in the morning. You need your sleep, Martin."

"If you insist." He stood up, trading places with his wife. He looked down at her. "You aren't going to stay in here all night, are you?"

Louisa glanced up at him. "No, just until he settles down."

"Mm. Um, goodnight."

Louisa let out a long yawn. "Goodnight, Martin." She watched him amble out of the room then turned back to her son. He was awake, with fresh tears staining his cheeks. "Oh, James, I wish I could make it better for you." She kissed his forehead and cradled him close to her chest.

. . .

The following morning, James seemed to be feeling better. Once Louisa was able to get him back to sleep, he remained quiet the rest of the night. He was in a playful mood this morning, preferring to fingerpaint with his breakfast rather than eat it.

"James Henry Ellingham," Louisa scolded her son, "your breakfast is not art. It's meant to go in your tummy." Reaching over, she tickled her little boy's stomach. James erupted in a fit of giggles, twisting and turning away from his mother's tickling fingers. He reached out a dirty hand, accidentally smearing oatmeal across Louisa's cheek and nose.

Letting out a laugh, Louisa leaned forward to rub her oatmeal-stained nose against her son's. "Does Mummy look silly, James?"

"Mum!" he cried out, reaching his hands out to her.

Louisa just barely moved in time before he could latch on to her hair. Turning around in her chair, she took the hand towel and wiped away the smears of oatmeal from her nose and cheek. "We better get you cleaned up before Daddy comes down."

Just as Louisa finished cleaning James's face, Martin stepped up into the kitchen. "Good morning," she greeted him with a smile.

"Morning." Picking up the measuring spoon next to the espresso machine, he started preparing his morning coffee.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Mm, sort of."

"Oh. Well, James seems a lot better this morning."

Martin turned around to look at his son. He was smiling, trying to contain his laughter as he squirmed in his high chair. "Um, good."

Noticing her husband's swift movements, she asked, "Do you have a full day today?"

"Yes," he replied curtly, while moving towards the hutch to retrieve an espresso cup. As he passed by James, Martin let his fingers glide over the top of the boy's head.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he looked up at his father.

"Morning, James. I hear you're doing better."

James let out a few grunts then reached out for his remaining breakfast. Louisa resumed feeding him and Martin sat down across from her with his cup of coffee. "Um, what are your plans for the day, now that you don't have to go to the school?"

Louisa turned to face him, a little caught off guard by his question. He very rarely started conversations this early in the morning. "I'm not sure. It's supposed to be nice today, so maybe we'll go for a walk later. If you're free we could have lunch together."

Martin shook his head. "Unlikely. I have patients."

"Oh. Another time, then?"

"Mm." He glanced down at his watch. "Isn't Julie supposed to be here by now?"

"I gave _Janice_ the week off."

"What? Why?"

"Because, Mar-tin, she deserves a little time off. Plus, it's the school holidays and I'd like to spend some of it with my son."

Martin looked down at his cup of coffee. "I see."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh."

"No, it's fine."

Louisa eyed him from across the table. He still looked tired and worn out. "You haven't been sleeping well recently. Why do think that is?"

Martin glanced at her over the rim of his espresso cup. "For starters, James's irritability the past couple of nights."

"I know, but there's something else. I can tell."

Setting down his cup, he sighed. "Louisa, I don't know."

"Maybe you should talk to Ruth?"

Martin stiffened in his chair. He hadn't had one of his talks with his aunt in a while. Looking after James and keeping up with a busy medical practice took up most of his time lately, especially with Louisa's added emphasis on Christmas. "Um, I don't know that I have the time." He stood up from the table and rinsed his empty cup out in the sink then placed it in the dishwasher.

Louisa turned in her chair to face him. "Is it your blood phobia again?"

Martin stood motionless with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out the kitchen window. "I don't know."

"Could it be a sleeping disorder of some kind?"

"No." He suddenly turned around. "I need to get ready before my first patient arrives."

Louisa glanced down at her hands. "Okay." Standing up, she took his hand. "Martin," she started in a soft tone, "I just want to help."

"I know. But I'm fine, Louisa - really."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she started playing with the fine hairs at the back of his head. "I believe you."

"Mm." He settled his hands on the small of her back, absently pulling her closer to him. "I, um, I've started that list you wanted me to draw up."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "What list?"

"For Christmas dinner."

"Oh, that list." She smiled. "You remembered. Thank you."

"It's not complete yet."

"That's fine. Just get it to me before Friday."

He nodded, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. "You look very beautiful this morning."

"Thank you, Martin." She took in the sight of his dark suit. For someone who only dressed in suits, he sure wore them well. "You know, this is my favourite tie." She traced the pattern of his red-striped tie with her fingertip.

"I see."

Louisa nodded. "It makes you look distinguished."

"Mm. Um, Louisa, I really should get ready . . ."

"Okay, okay." She patted his chest then leaned up to place a quick kiss on his lips. "Have a good day. James and I will try to stay out of your hair while the surgery is in session."

"You don't have to be out for the whole day, just try to keep the noise down when you're here."

Louisa smiled. "Okay."

Martin stepped around her to see James. "Be good for your mother today, James." He brushed his fingers across his son's cheek before heading under the stairs to his consulting room.

Louisa sat back down at the table. "Maybe we'll do some shopping today, James. How does that sound?" James waved his arms and Louisa chuckled.

. . .

"Are you warm enough, James?" Louisa said to her son as she pushed him along the coastal path. She heard him let out a babble and she smiled when he peered around the pushchair to face her. It was a rare, sunny December day. The sea was calm and a slight breeze was the only chill in the air.

As they walked by the police station, Louisa waved at Penhale, who was standing next to his Land Rover, clad in uniform with a mug in his hand. "Morning, Joe!" she called out.

"Morning, Louiser!" He jogged up to her and bent down to get a look at James. "Hello, James Henry. Do you remember me?" James eyed the policeman and Joe placed a hand on his chest. "I'm PC Joseph Penhale; here to keep the village of Portwenn safe for little one's like you." James laughed and Penhale smiled. "I think he likes me."

Louisa grinned. "Are you on duty this morning, Joe?" she asked him.

Penhale ruffled James's hair then stood up. "Yep. Never know when crime will strike, eh? Always be prepared, that's what I say." He placed one hand on his utility belt and took a drink from his mug.

"Well, we won't keep you, then."

"See you later, Louisa."

She gave Penhale another wave before continuing down the street. Louisa and James just reached the crest of one of Portwenn's many hills when she saw Elliot jogging in the opposite direction. "Morning!" she said.

Elliot stopped running and pulled out his ear buds. "Sorry?"

"I said, good morning."

Elliot let out a few ragged breaths before replying, "Morning. Nice day today, isn't it?" He placed his hands on his hips.

"Yeah. Out running?"

He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "Yep. Made a bet with Penhale. Said I couldn't beat his time for the half marathon over in Exeter. Come spring, I'm gonna prove him wrong. There's two hundred quid at stake."

Louisa raised her brows. "Wow. That seems like a lot for just a race."

Elliot shrugged. "Yeah, well you know Penhale, not the sharpest one in the box, I'm afraid. Thinks his time can't be beat." He let out a small chuckle and wiped the sweat from his brow using the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. "Where are you two off to?" He smiled and waved at James.

"Just out for a walk. We're thinking of going shopping later, aren't we, James?"

"Sounds fun. Hey, I know it's early, but I got you a little something for Christmas."

"Oh, Elliot you didn't have to."

"No, you've been so kind, welcoming me into your school. You're the best headmistress I've ever worked with, Louisa."

Louisa turned her head away, trying to hide the flush that crept across her cheeks. "Thank you."

"I'll stop by the surgery later today and drop it off. Is that okay?"

Louisa started worrying her lower lip. "Um, yeah, that's fine."

Elliot smiled and started stretching out his legs. "Great."

"I should let you continue on."

"See you later." Putting his ear buds back in, he gave Louisa and James a wave then started jogging past them down the hill.

Louisa turned around to watch him for a moment. She shook her head. Oh, why did he have to get me a gift? she wondered. Letting out a calm breath, she said, "Okay, James, shall we start heading back?"

"Back!" the boy repeated.

. . .

"Um, take a seat on the examination table," Martin said as he ushered his next patient through.

"I've been so worried, Doctor," the mother replied. "My Bethany never gets ill. But she's been so worn out. Can hardly get outta bed. Had to drag here 'ere myself."

"Stop talking." He moved to the examination table and pulled his cart of supplies over. Snapping on a pair of gloves he felt the underside of the girl's jaw and chin. "You said you have a sore throat?"

The teenage girl nodded. "Can hardly eat anything it hurts so much."

Picking up a tongue depressor, Martin looked inside the girl's mouth. "Hmm, your tonsils are swollen. Any other symptoms?"

The girl shrugged and absently scratched at her wrist. Martin noticed and creased his brow. He pulled her hand away and rolled up the sleeve of her jumper. "You have a skin rash."

"Yeah, it's a bit itchy. So what?"

"Well, didn't you think to mention it?"

"I don't know. I just feel rotten. Are you gonna help me or not?"

Martin pulled off his gloves and dropped them into the bin as he moved behind his desk. "Have you experienced fever or chills? Any aches or pain other than the sore throat?"

The girl sat up and shifted herself towards the end of the examination table. "I get a bid cold sometimes, but that's normal, isn't it?"

"Mm. Infectious mononucleosis."

"What?" the girl and her mother said at the same time.

"Infectious mononucleosis. More commonly known as mono. That's what you have." Martin looked down and started making notes in the patient's file.

The mother looked flabbergasted. "You must be mistaken, Doc. How could Bethany have mono?"

Martin looked back up at the two women. "I'm not mistaken. At first glance, your symptoms line up with strep throat, but I noticed that rash on your wrist. The illness is usually contracted by the sharing of saliva."

"What?" The mother turned to her daughter. "Have you been kissin' that boy I've seen you around with?"

The girl's face turned red. "What? Mum, no."

"When we get home, we're going to have a long talk about this young lady."

Martin tried to ignore the squabble between mother and daughter. He pulled out his prescription pad. "Be quiet!" he spat out. "Here's a prescription for an anti-inflammatory. It should relieve some of the pain for your throat and reduce the inflammation. Drink plenty of fluids and with rest it should resolve itself in a week or so."

The mother narrowed her eyes at Martin and snatched the prescription from his fingers. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then come back and see me."

"Cmon, Bethany." The mother took hold of her daughter's arm and began dragging her along with her.

"Nice one, Doc," the girl replied, giving Martin a glare. "Tosser."

Martin scowled back. Unbelievable, he thought. "Next patient!" he shouted, once mother and daughter left the consulting room.

Later that day, around three o'clock, Morwenna knocked on the doorframe of the consulting room. Martin turned his head to face her. "Yes?"

"There's a Mr. Keane out here. Says he has something for Louisa?"

"What?" Martin stood up and peered around his receptionist's shoulder to the reception area. That teacher he met at the school's Christmas concert was standing next to Morwenna's desk, a wrapped package tucked under his arm.

"Should I tell him to come back when the surgery's closed?"

"No. I'll deal with it now." Slipping past Morwenna, Martin approached the teacher.

"Ah, Martin, I mean, Dr. Ellingham." Elliot stuck out his hand.

Martin ignored the man's greeting. "What do you want? This is a doctor's surgery, not a post office."

"Sorry, mate. But I ran into Louisa this morning and I got her a little something for welcoming me into the school. I told her I'd drop it off here."

Martin grabbed for the package but Elliot moved away. "I can give it to her."

Elliot gave Martin a forced smile. "I'd rather deliver it myself."

Martin clenched his fists at his sides as a frown spread over his face. "She isn't here. She's out shopping I think."

Elliot stepped closer to Martin, their noses just a few inches from touching. "I said, I'd rather give it to her myself."

Morwenna had silently slipped behind her desk and was growing nervous at the interaction between the doc and Mr. Keane.

"And I told you, she isn't here. So either hand it over or get out."

Elliot let out a long breath and handed over the package. Martin took it and stepped back, putting some distance between himself and the teacher. "You'll make sure she gets it?" Elliot asked.

"Yes," Martin replied through clenched teeth.

Elliot nodded, seeming to have calmed down a bit. "Good, good. Um, sorry to disturb you, Dr. Ellingham, but I promised I'd drop it off."

"Right." Martin watched warily as the teacher turned and left the surgery.

"That was odd," Morwenna said, looking up at Martin from her desk. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He works at the school. We met at the Christmas concert."

"Oh. How was the concert?"

Martin shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Send in the next patient."

Morwenna relaxed her shoulders and looked at the appointment schedule on her computer. "In you go Mrs. Wilson."

. . .

When Louisa and James returned from their shopping excursion, Martin silently stepped out from under the stairs. "Louisa?"

Louisa looked at him from over the top of the refrigerator door. "Hello. All finished for the day?"

"Yes." He approached the table slowly. "Um, that teacher, Mr. Kent stopped by."

"Mr. Kent? Oh, you mean Mr. Keane. What did he want?"

"He said he had something for you."

Louisa closed the refrigerator door then handed James one of his finger puppets. "Oh, right. Yes, he said he was going to drop something off."

Martin remained motionless next to the table, his fingers twitching at his sides. Louisa felt unsettled by his intense gaze. "Was there something else, Martin?"

"Mm. He was very adamant that he personally deliver it to."

"Oh."

"Louisa . . ."

She knew what he was trying to ask. "I know what you're going to say, Martin. And no, there's nothing between me and Elliot. We're colleagues. He was just giving me a thank you gift."

"I see."

Louisa put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at him. She hated that phrase, especially when he used that abrupt tone of his. "Martin, I don't want to fight with you on this."

"Mm, I don't either."

"Then why do you bring it up?"

He looked away from her for a moment. "I don't know."

"I think you do. Martin, you can't keep these things bottled up inside. Talk to me, I'll understand."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not good enough for you, Louisa. The whole village knows it."

Louisa moved around the table to stand in front of him. "Yes, you are. And since when do you care what the villagers think?" She reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "I chose you, didn't I? You're my extraordinary man." His face turned red and he averted his eyes towards James. "I know you still fear that I might leave again, but, Martin I promise I'm staying for good. No matter how much you muck something up, we'll find a way to fix it together, okay?"

"Mm, okay."

Louisa smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. He reciprocated and they held each other close in a tight hug. "Thank you for talking to me," she said.

"Mm. Thank you for being so understanding."

Louisa laughed. "This sort of reminds me of the hugging exercise Dr. Timoney made us do, remember?"

"Mm, yes."

She released her hold on him and stepped back. "Um, I was just going to get dinner started. Care to help?"

"Um, yes. I just have to finish one thing first."

Reaching up, Louisa kissed his cheek. "Okay. Don't be too long." She gave him a smile and he tugged on his ear then disappeared under the stairs to his consulting room.

After dinner and the washing up had been completed, Louisa decided to relax on the sofa with a glass of wine. She was staring at the lit Christmas tree when she heard her son's babbling voice coming from the stairs. A moment later he toddled in front of her, dressed in his pyjamas and clutching his purple dinosaur. "Hi sweetheart, did you enjoy your bath?" He tried pulling himself up on to the sofa, but needed a little extra help from his mother.

James crawled over into Louisa's lap and she wrapped an arm around his stomach, holding his small body against her chest. She nuzzled her nose in her son's blonde hair, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of his shampoo. "There's Daddy," Louisa said as she looked up to see Martin entering the living room.

James glanced up and gave his father a wide, toothy grin. Martin sat down heavily, letting out a sigh. "Tired?" Louisa asked him.

"Mm." He reached around with a hand and rubbed his upper back. "Just feel a little stiff, that's all."

Reaching over, Louisa gave his shoulder a gentle pat. "You've been working too much, Martin."

"I'm a doctor, Louisa. I can't just stop and go on holiday whenever I choose. I have a duty of care to the health of this village."

"I know. You're just getting older."

He turned and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "I see."

She reached out and fingered the gray hairs above his ear. "I wasn't trying to be offensive."

"I know."

Louisa brought her glass of white wine to her lips. "Are you sure you're okay with having a few more people at Christmas?"

"I told you it's fine."

"I just want to be sure, Martin."

He grunted then reached out for James. "It's getting past his bedtime."

"I'll come with you." Setting her wineglass down on the side table, Louisa stood up and followed Martin up the stairs.

After reading James his bedtime story, Martin gently laid their son down in his cot. He pulled the blankets up to James's chin and his lips curled into a brief grin.

Louisa watched her husband. She smiled as he brushed his fingers over their son's cheek. Moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek against his back. "I love watching you with him," she said softly.

"Mm." Martin took one last look at James before turning around in his wife's embrace. "Hello . . . Mrs. Ellingham."

Louisa continued to smile at him. "Hello . . . husband."

Martin slid his hands around her waist to rest against the small of her back. "You're so beautiful, Louisa," he whispered, leaning his head down to rest against her forehead.

Louisa smoothed her hands up the front of his suit until she laced them behind his neck. "I love you, Martin - so very much."

Martin closed his eyes, feeling his chest swell. He pulled her closer to him. "You make me so happy, Louisa."

Louisa could feel her eyes begin to water. She placed a hand on his cheek and tilted her head back to kiss him. Martin's grip on her waist tightened as their embrace deepened. When they finally pulled away, Martin stared at her, perplexed. "Why are you crying?" he asked her.

"They're happy tears, Martin."

"I see." He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away her tears.

Louisa rolled her eyes. There was that phrase again. "I'm never going to give this up - what you and I have together."

Martin took hold of her hand and entwined their fingers. "Good," he said. "Because I've told you before, I can't bear to be without you."

Louisa smiled and after flicking the light switch and closing the door of the nursery, she led him across the hall to their bedroom.

 **Author's note: The Christmas festivities will commence in the next chapter - I promise. Hope you are all still enjoying my writing as I never tire of it myself. Feel free to let me know if you think I'm portraying Martin to be too much of a romantic softy. In all honesty, I rather enjoy writing his curmudgeonly persona. Anyway, see you all soon in the next installment!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Bright and early on the morning of Christmas Eve, Louisa was awakened to the sound of running water. Glancing at her alarm clock and taking note of the time, she turned and buried her face in her pillow, hoping to fall back asleep. A few moments later, the bathroom door opened and Martin shuffled over to his wardrobe, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Annoyed that she couldn't fall back asleep, Louisa turned to look at her husband. He was rifling through his collection of shirts. "Mar-tin? Why are you up so early?"

He turned around to face her. "Mm, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's half past six. I thought you said the surgery was closed today?"

"It is," he said, slipping an arm through the sleeve of one of his white shirts.

"And?"

He furrowed his brow. "Nothing. I just felt like getting up. Is it a crime to wake up early in the morning?"

"No. I just . . ." She paused as she watched him get dressed. "I just thought maybe you'd fancy sleeping in a bit longer." She gave him a playful smile.

He grunted and began buttoning his shirt. "I see." He moved over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts.

Louisa sighed. Pulling back the sheets and blankets, she slipped out of bed and wrapped her arms around Martin's waist. She felt his back stiffen against her.

"Louisa, I . . ." He became distracted as he could feel her fingers toying with the hem of his towel, seeking out bare skin. He let out a breath. "Please, Louisa, not now." He quickly slipped on his boxers and removed the towel.

"Martin?" She took a step back from him.

"What?" He moved away from her and hung up his towel in the bathroom then returned to his wardrobe to select a pair of black trousers.

Louisa shook her head. "I'm trying to be romantic and you're ruining it."

Letting out a sigh, Martin turned to face his wife. "I'm sorry."

Louisa looked down at the floor. "It's fine."

"No." He stepped closer to her and placed the back of his hand against her cheek. "I guess I'm just nervous about all this Christmas stuff."

Louisa raised her eyes to meet Martin's. "I understand. As long as we're together as a family, it'll be alright, Martin."

"Mm." As he gazed at her, he could see in her eyes the truth behind her words.

Louisa looked past his shoulder into his wardrobe. "The navy tie with the white pattern," she said, pointing with a finger. "It brings out your eyes."

"Um, yes." He turned and pulled out the suggested tie and looped it around his neck.

"I'll just check on James quick then shower."

"Yes."

After slipping on her blue jumper, Louisa pulled her hair back into her trademark ponytail. As she raised her hands to secure a bobby pin, it slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. "Bugger!" she muttered to herself. Bending down, Louisa picked up the small hairpin, her eyes briefly settling on the package from Elliot that was situated underneath the chair by the dresser. It was still wrapped in its festive paper.

Louisa was still uncertain on whether to open it. Martin hadn't mentioned anything about the package since the day Elliot brought it over. Chewing on her lower lip, Louisa took the parcel and set it on top of the dresser.

After peeling away the wrapping paper, Louisa used the end of her nail file to open the ends of the box. Inside, she pulled out a metal picture frame. Flipping it around, she smiled. It was a picture of the year four class on the day before the school's Christmas concert. The kids were lined up at the front of the classroom, dressed in uniform, and their teacher, Elliot Keane, stood on the left end, smiling with his hands clasped behind his back. As headmistress, Louisa was present for the photo. She was standing on the opposite end, her smile wide and beautiful.

Setting the frame down on the dresser, Louisa noticed a card at the bottom of the box. It read:

 _Louisa,_

 _Thank you for a wonderful first term. I've so enjoyed my time here at Portwenn Primary. You are a delight to work with, and in future I look forward to getting to know you even more. You run our school with such poise I'm amazed. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman, and I'm very happy to make my home here in this quaint little village. The kids are a joy to work with and be around, but getting to see you everyday makes my job even more enjoyable._

 _Happy Christmas,_

 _Elliot_

Louisa could feel her cheeks turning red. His note was kind and heartfelt. She wasn't expecting such warm compliments. She'd have to remember to bring the photograph with her once she returned back to work. It would look nice on the windowsill along with the other pictures she had of students in her office.

"Louisa?" came Martin's voice as he silently stepped into the room.

Louisa turned to face him, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. "What is it, Martin?"

Martin furrowed his brow. Why was she acting so jumpy, he wondered. "Um, breakfast is ready. James has been calling for you."

"Has he?" She gave him a wide smile and slipped past him out of the room.

Noticing the mess on the dresser, Martin moved closer to investigate. He recognised the wrapping paper from the package that teacher had dropped off the previous week. He didn't realise it had gone unopened until now. He glimpsed the framed photograph and Martin picked it up to get a better look. Seeing Elliot and his wife in the same picture made his lip curl. He set the frame back down and scanned the handwritten note. With a scowl, he scrunched the wrapping paper into a ball and dropped it in the bin by the door.

"And how's my precious boy?" Louisa cooed to her son as she stepped up into the kitchen.

"Mum!" James cried, reaching his arms out for his mother.

"Did you help Daddy make breakfast, James?"

"Da-ee!"

Louisa smiled and sat down next to James' high chair and began feeding him his slices of fruit. "Thank you for making breakfast," she said once Martin entered the kitchen.

"Mm, you're welcome." He refilled his espresso cup then sat down across from Louisa.

"Everything alright?" she asked, noticing the faraway look in her husband's eyes.

"Hmm? Yes."

"Good. So, Ruth will be here tomorrow afternoon to help with the preparations for Christmas dinner."

Martin grunted as he dipped his toast into his egg. "When will everybody else be arriving?"

Louisa stopped feeding James and turned to fully face Martin. "I told Morwenna to be here around four. I thought we could eat at about five. Is that okay with you?"

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Mm, yes, that's fine."

"Good."

Martin turned to look at James. He was turning his head away from the outstretched spoon in Louisa's hand, obviously finished with his breakfast. "Um, how would you feel about going for a walk later today?" Martin asked.

Louisa finally gave up at trying to get James to eat another spoonful of his fruit. "I think that would be nice."

The corners of Martin's mouth tugged upwards in a half smile. "Good. I, um, just want to look over my schedule for next week first, then whenever you're ready we can leave."

"Okay." She watched him stand up and take his used dishes to the sink. Without a word, he silently moved under the stairs to his consulting room. His odd behaviour this morning was already starting to cause Louisa to worry. Brushing off her attempts at a romantic morning in bed followed by a brief and quiet breakfast had Louisa grasping to know what was going through that mind of his.

. . .

Their walk took them down Roscarrock Hill and across the Platt. As Martin pushed James up Fore Street and past the school, he felt Louisa link her arm through his. He turned to look at her. "What?"

"Nothing. Im just very happy, Martin."

Martin didn't reply. He could feel his heart rate begin to pick up. His wife was happy and that's all that mattered. As they ascended another hill, Martin felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Louisa's grip on his arm never slackened, and for once, he didn't mind if anyone saw them.

The Ellinghams stopped at the beach near the police station. Penhale's Land Rover was gone, and Martin was thankful the constable wasn't around to raise his blood pressure. Save for a few beachcombers and young children, the beach was fairly quiet.

Louisa unbuckled James and hoisted him out of the pushchair. The toddler was glad to have his feet back on the ground, and as soon as Louisa let go of him, he started running towards the water. "Martin! Can you grab James!" she shouted over the wind.

Martin rushed over and swept his son up into his arms. James giggled and shrieked as he was held up high in the air over his father's head. "Da-ee!"

Martin smiled slightly at the joy on his son's face. Bringing him back down to eye level, Martin shifted James up against his shoulder. "The water's cold, James. We don't want you getting sick."

James tilted his head to the side as he looked at Martin. He batted at his father's face while saying, "Down!"

"Alright, but you mustn't go in the water. Okay, James?"

James smiled and Martin set him back down on the ground. He stood beside his father, the top of his head reaching about thigh-high on Martin. James grasped the leg of Martin's trousers and looked up at him. Martin gazed down at his small son and placed a broad palm on the boy's head.

Louisa was standing a few feet away watching her two boys. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her peacoat and smiled. Martin looked like a giant when compared to James' small form. Yet, they seemed to understand each other in a way that only father and son could. She was glad she decided to return home to Portwenn after her brief stay in Spain with her mother. And she was especially grateful that she didn't give up on her marriage, otherwise, she wouldn't have these tender, little moments with just her husband and son.

Coming up beside Martin, Louisa took his left hand in her right and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked down at her, and the soft expression on his face made her heart flutter. James let go of his father and started chasing after a gull that was pecking at the sand some feet away.

Louisa chuckled as James shrieked along with the circling gulls. Martin frowned at the prospect of his son chasing after an animal that could be a carrier of any number of diseases. He felt his wife's grip on his hand tighten, which was her way of reassuring him that James would be fine.

Hand in hand, Martin and Louisa followed their son as he explored the beach on his own. They enjoyed watching James as he attempted to throw rocks into the water, imitating the other children on the beach. It was a cloudy and windy day, but nevertheless, the Ellinghams made the most out of their time together as a family. Martin was content as his son was enjoying himself and the woman he loved was tucked close to his side. He turned to look at her. "Thank you, Louisa."

Louisa glanced up at him. "For what?"

He nodded towards James, who was now sitting on his haunches, digging in the sand. "For James . . . and for not giving up on me."

"Oh, Martin." She turned and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. "I'll always be with you."

Martin closed his eyes as he held on to his wife. He finally had a purpose in life. And he would do everything in his power to be the husband and father his family deserved.

. . .

By the time nightfall rolled around, James was growing sleepy as he sat in his mother's lap, listening to his father's low voice as he read from a children's book. Suddenly, Martin stopped reading.

"What is it, Martin?" Louisa said as she turned to face him.

"Mm, nothing. I was just thinking."

"Oh? About what?"

Martin shrugged. "It's not important at the moment."

"Mar-tin, now you have me intrigued."

He shook his head as he closed the book and set it on the small table by the window. "I, um, got you something for Christmas."

"Oh, Martin."

"I was thinking of giving it to you tonight, once James is asleep."

She smiled at him. "I'd like that." Looking back down at her son, Louisa smoothed her fingers through the fringe of light hair covering his forehead. James stared back at his mother and brought his fingers to his mouth.

Martin was against James sucking on his fingers and usually tried to put a stop to the habit. As a toddler, he has yet to understand the concept of germs and the importance of hand washing. "Louisa," he said, pointing to James. "I don't want him picking up something."

Louisa rolled her eyes and gently pried her son's fingers from his mouth. He let out a long yawn so she stood up from the rocking chair, shifting James up to her shoulder. She laid him down in his cot and pulled his blankets up to his chin. James turned and reached for his purple dinosaur, which was starting to look worn at the tail and head.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Louisa softly crooned to her son. She ran her fingers through his hair and down the curve of his cheek. "Tomorrow's going to be an exciting day for you."

Martin came up beside Louisa and bent over the railing of the cot to place his fingers on James' forehead. The cut above his eyebrow from the farm was now just a faint red line. As Martin moved his fingers down James' cheek and to his neck, the boy drifted off to sleep, his favourite stuffed animal tucked close to his side.

As usual, Martin didn't say anything as he watched their son sleep, at least he didn't when Louisa was present. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but held back. Louisa encircled his waist with her arm, leaning against him.

"I believe you promised me a Christmas gift," she said, turning to look at him.

"Mm, yes." Straightening his back, he stepped away from the cot. Turning out the light and quietly closing the door, Martin led the way down the stairs. "I have it tucked away in the consulting room. I'll, um, just be a minute."

Louisa nodded and moved to the living room and plugged in the tree. The lights sparkled and as she gazed at their beautiful Christmas tree, Louisa would forever remember how she and Martin decorated it together. She fingered one of Joan's ornaments and felt a small pang in her chest at the absence of such a wonderful and caring woman. She held a significant place in both their hearts.

The floor underneath the carpet creaked and Louisa turned around to find Martin standing next to the sofa, a rectangular item clutched in his hands. She moved and sat down on the sofa, Martin following her.

"I thought I'd give it to you now, since we're alone," he said, handing her the wrapped gift.

Louisa looked down at the gift, turning it this way and that, trying to figure out what it might be. Glancing up at him, she smiled. "Hmm, I wonder what it could be?"

Martin silently watched her as she started peeling away the wrapping paper. Her smile faded as she unveiled her gift and Martin grew worried that she didn't like it. "Louisa?"

Louisa continued to stare at the 16'' x 20'' photo in her hands. "Martin, it's . . ." She finally looked up at him, shaking her head. "I love it. Thank you."

Martin glanced down at their enlarged wedding photo. "I had Penhale's face edited out. I thought we could hang it above the mantle."

Louisa finally smiled. "I thought you didn't like displaying pictures."

"Yes. But this our home. And, um, patients aren't allowed on this side of the surgery. I didn't really know what to get you for Christmas, but I know how you love pictures and memories and all that."

"Martin, this is the sweetest gift anyone's ever given me. Thank you." Leaning over, Louisa kissed him deeply. "I love you," she said softly, resting her forehead against his.

"Mm, me too."

"Shall we hang it up? Or do you want to wait until everyone leaves tomorrow?"

"No. Right now is fine."

Louisa smiled. "Right then. We're going to need a nail and a hammer, Dr. Ellingham."

"Right. I suppose we can just set it on the mantle for now."

"Maybe Al can hang it up tomorrow when he comes?"

Martin scrunched his nose, but knew that it was either going to be Al or Bert that was going to be doing the job. Al knew when to keep his mouth shut, unlike his father. "Fine."

Standing up, Louisa took the framed photograph and set it up on the mantle above the fireplace. She stared at it for a minute. "Maybe we should put it on the end. We can put another picture on the opposite side to balance it out. What do you think?"

Martin could really care less about the placement of the picture. His wife's happiness was far more important. "Mm. Um, whatever you decide is fine."

Louisa snapped her fingers. "I know." She left the room and headed upstairs. A few moments later she returned with the family picture she had given Martin when he moved out. She placed it on the opposite end of the mantle. "There. How does that look?"

Martin stepped up behind her and gazed at the two pictures. "It looks . . . I like it very much," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Louisa turned around in his embrace. "I got you something too."

"Really?"

She nodded. "But you're going to have to wait until tomorrow morning."

"I see."

She patted his chest. "There's something else. Wait here." She left the room once more and a minute later returned with a plastic shopping bag. "Look, aren't they cute?" she said, holding up a colorful stocking.

Martin scrunched his nose. "Cute? What for?"

Louisa slumped her shoulders as her husband was slow to catch on. "For Father Christmas."

"Louisa, you know he's just a children's character . . ."

"Yes, Martin, I know. I meant we'll hang them up. Leave a little something for James?"

"I see."

She pulled the rest of the stockings out of the bag. "There's one for each of us, see." She handed him a dark blue stocking. "Morwenna gave them to us."

"Mm." Martin held the stocking up with a curled lip. "I hope they were washed before she gave them to you."

"Oh, Mar-tin," she huffed, "they're fine. Do you have any adhesive strips of any kind?"

"I have some surgical tape in my medical bag." He turned on his heel towards the consulting room. When he returned, Louisa was facing the fireplace. "Um, here." He cut off a strip of the tape and Louisa stuck one of the stockings on the lip of the mantle.

"There," she said, after taping all three stockings to the fireplace. "It should hold, right?"

"Mm, yes."

Louisa stepped back from the fireplace and smiled. "James will be so excited."

"Yes."

"So, shall we?" Louisa gestured towards the tree with her head.

Martin tilted his head to the side. "What?"

"Get everything together for tomorrow morning."

"Oh, right."

They moved to the pantry where they stowed the gifts they got James. "I still think all of these presents are unnecessary," Martin said as he picked up a stack of wrapped packages and followed Louisa back to the living room.

"Don't you want James to enjoy himself?" she asked as she started distributing the gifts under the tree.

"Yes."

"Good. Then why don't you come down here and help me?"

Martin reluctantly bent down and helped his wife. He noticed his name scrawled on the top of a box and Martin paused his movements.

"Something wrong, Martin?"

"Hmm? No."

Louisa watched him for a moment. She was still touched by the gift he gave her. Though he wasn't smiling in their wedding photo, she knew that Martin loved her very much. She turned to look at the pictures adorning their mantle. Who knows, maybe someday it would be filled with family photographs. Louisa smiled as she imagined their family in the future.

. . .

The next morning at approximately half past seven, Martin slipped out of bed and donned his dressing gown. He silently left their bedroom and padded across the hall to check on James.

"Morning, James," Martin announced as he came across his son wide awake and standing at attention in his cot. He placed the backs of two fingers against the boy's forehead before running them over his cheek. "Happy Christams," he whispered as he picked up his son and settled him against his chest.

Returning to their bedroom, Martin carefully sat down on the bed and Louisa stirred. She turned on her side and was greeted by a smiling James. He placed his little hands on her nose and Louisa sat up, pulling him to her.

"Oh, James. Happy Christmas," she cooed to their little boy. She turned to face Martin. Reaching over, she placed a hand on his cheek. "Happy Christmas, Martin."

"Mm." He placed one of his hands atop hers and caressed the back of it with his thumb. "Happy Christmas."

"Shall we see what Father Christmas brought you, James?"

James bounced in his mother's arms, sensing her excitement. He began clapping his hands and babbling incoherently.

"Okay. Let's go, young man." She swung James over the edge of the bed until his feet hit the floor. He ran around the other side of the bed and reached up to tug on his father's sleeve.

"Alright, James, be patient," Martin said as he stood up and took hold of his son's hand.

After making it down the stairs, Louisa took over and guided James to the Christmas tree. She plugged in the lights and sat down on the floor. James plopped himself down next to his mother and started to play with one of the ornaments hanging from a bottom branch.

Martin went to the kitchen and started up his espresso machine. "Oh, Martin, can you get the stockings?" Louisa asked him as he was pulling out an espresso cup from the hutch.

"Yes," he replied, moving towards the fireplace. He took down all three stockings and handed them to Louisa.

"Oh, let me get my phone. I want to take pictures."

Martin turned his head away and rolled his eyes as his wife rushed over to the stairs. He sat down on the sofa and watched as James started crawling under the tree.

When Louisa returned she handed Martin her phone. "Could you take a few pictures of James?"

"Yes."

Louisa handed James his green and red stocking. "Here, James. Shall we see what Father Christmas left you?" James reached out for the stocking and upended it. A few finger puppets and wrapped candies fell to the floor.

"Louisa, I thought we agreed no candy?" Martin said, a frown forming across his face.

"It's fine, Martin, he probably won't eat any of it." James remained occupied with one of his new finger puppets and Louisa smiled at him. "Here, James, why don't you give Daddy his stocking." She held out the dark blue material and James took it with both hands.

Louisa pointed at Martin and James squealed, "Da-ee!" He rushed over and dropped the stocking in his father's lap.

"Um, thank you, James." Martin dumped the contents of his stocking out on the sofa. He looked at the miniature, white candy plasters. He glanced over at Louisa with a furrowed brow.

"What?" she said. "I thought it would be fun. Since you're a doctor and everything."

"I see."

"You don't have to eat them, Martin." She stood up and walked around the back of the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "C'mon. It's Christmas, lighten up a bit, hmm?" She patted his arm then leaned over and kissed his cheek. Martin's espresso machine began to sputter and shriek, and he stood up and headed for the kitchen.

Louisa kneeled back down by her son. "Look, this is for you, James." She pulled out a present and set it next to him on the floor. "Martin, hurry up or you're going to miss it."

"Yes, I'm coming." He shuffled back to the living room with his espresso cup.

Louisa helped James tear off the wrapping paper and she smiled when she saw his little face light up at what was revealed. "Oh, James look at that. It's a pirate play set." James splayed his hands across the glossy box, mesmerised by the picture of the toy pirate ship. "Martin?" She turned to her husband. "The camera?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." He set down his espresso and picked up Louisa's phone. Tapping on the camera icon he managed to get a few pictures of James with his new toy.

"This one's from Mummy and Daddy," Louisa said, handing James another present. "More blocks and books?" James looked up at his mother and gave her a toothy grin. "I bet you and Daddy will have lots of fun building with those blocks."

One by one, Louisa helped James finish opening the last of his gifts. She took hold of the last present and handed it to Martin. "Shall we give Daddy a turn?" Louisa pulled James into her lap and the two of them watched as Martin just stared down at the gift in his lap. "Go ahead, Martin."

"Mm, right. It's a bit heavy," he observed as he tore open an edge. After peeling away the wrapping paper, Martin opened the box to reveal a marble chess set. He looked at his wife in disbelief. "Louisa, this is . . . I mean, it must have cost you a fortune."

Louisa smiled at him as she hugged James closer to her chest. "Don't worry about the price, Martin. You deserve it."

"I haven't played chess in years," he said, pulling out the pristine board.

"Now's your chance to take it up again. Maybe you could teach James when he's a bit older?"

"Mm." He ran his fingers over the smooth surface. "I won a competition you know - at boarding school."

"Did you really?"

He nodded. "They gave me this silver cup as a trophy. I'm not sure what happened to it. It was a long time ago."

Louisa picked up James and sat down next to her husband. "Do you really like it?"

He turned to face her. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

"I'm afraid you won't get any use out of it for a while. I'm not really the chess-playing type of person."

Martin smiled at her. "You could learn."

Louisa reached over and covered his hand with her own, remembering that she said the same thing when she handed him a newborn James. "Yes, I could."

He continued to stare at her and eventually his eyes drifted over to James and the mess of wrapping paper that scattered the floor.

Taking a look at her mobile phone, Louisa suddenly stood up. "Gosh, I better get that turkey started otherwise we'll be eating after midnight." She deposited James in Martin's lap then headed to the kitchen.

Martin scowled as he was left to clean up the mess that was on the floor. He tidied James' new toys into a pile under the tree then binned the used wrapping paper. As Martin settled down with the latest issue of his medical journal, he felt a tug on the leg of his pyjamas. He looked over the top of his reading to see James clutching the box of his new pirate play set. He let a stream of air escape his nose. "How about a bath and some clean clothes first?"

"Bat!" James cried, bouncing on his toes.

Picking James up and settling him against his shoulder, he addressed his wife, "Um, Louisa, I'm going to give James his bath then get him dressed."

She looked up from her dirty work with the turkey. "Alright. I'll try and have breakfast on the table by the time you're done."

Martin could see the frustration on his wife's face as she was preparing the turkey. "Do you need any help?"

Louisa let out an exasperated breath. "Thank you, Martin, but I'm fine."

"Mm," he grunted before turning and heading for the stairs.

At noon Ruth arrived to help Louisa with the preparation of Christmas dinner. "How's the turkey coming along?" she asked, while washing her hands.

Louisa opened the door of the cooker to take a quick peek. "It's coming along. Still a ways to go, though."

"What do you want me to do first?"

"I thought we could start with the bacon wrapped sausages. Martin's opposed to them, so I promised I'd make him an assortment of steamed vegetables."

Ruth cracked a brief smile at her nephew's penchant for good nutrition. "Where is Martin?"

Louisa pulled out the slab of bacon and miniature sausages from the refrigerator. "He's upstairs keeping James occupied. I don't want him getting in the way. Hopefully he'll go down for a nap soon."

"Hmm. How was he this morning?"

"Martin or James?"

"Both."

Louisa started cutting the bacon into small, thin strips. "Oh, Ruth you should have seen James. He was so excited when he opened his gifts."

"And Martin?"

"He was very committed, I guess you could say. You should see what he gave me." Putting down the knife she'd been holding and wiping her hands on a towel, Louisa led Ruth to the living room. She gestured to the mantle.

"Your wedding photo?"

Louisa nodded, a smile forming. "Yes. I thought it was very sweet of him."

"It certainly is a surprise. I wouldn't have expected such a gesture from Martin."

"He's really doing his best to be a better husband and father - and he is. It's just, I think sometimes he feels overwhelmed and that's when he starts to withdraw."

"I see."

"What? Do you have a different theory?"

Ruth shook her head. "Oh, no, dear. I have my own opinions about the state of your marriage, I'm just glad you're both somewhat happy."

Louisa furrowed her brow at the woman's critical remark. "We are."

"Good."

Louisa let out a breath and moved back to the kitchen to resume preparing the sausages.

"Doc! Louisa!" came Bert's obnoxious greeting a few hours later, followed by a loud knock on the front door of the surgery.

"Martin, would you get that? I have my hands full," Louisa said as she pulled out a tray of roasted potatoes from the cooker.

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose as he left the living room to welcome his guests. Opening the front door, he was greeted by Al, Bert, and Morwenna.

"Hiya, Doc," Morwenna said as she slipped inside the cottage first. "Sure smells good in here." She handed him a ceramic bowl that was covered with cling film.

"What's this?" Martin said, scrunching his nose as he looked down at the bowl's contents.

"The pudding of course. It's my grandmother's recipe."

"We all chipped in, Doc," Bert said as he nudged Al forward through the doorway.

"Uh, Louisa said you needed a picture hung on the wall?" Al asked, pulling his toolbox up for Martin to see.

"Um, yes. This way." He led Al to the living room and pointed to their wedding photo. Al nodded and set to work.

"Say, where's the little fella?" Bert inquired as he made himself comfortable on the sofa.

"He's asleep upstairs."

"Bet he had a tiring morning, huh?" Morwenna craned her head towards the tree where James' toys were piled underneath.

Martin narrowed his eyes at his receptionist. "Yes."

"Here, Doc . . ." Bert rifled through the breast pocket of his tweed suit and pulled out a square piece of paper.

"What is it?" Martin asked.

"It's good for one free bottle of my whiskey."

Martin handed back the piece of paper. "You know I don't drink."

"Oh, I know. But I thought maybe you could give it a taste. Maybe spread the word to some of your medical friends?"

"Uh, no."

Bert frowned. "Why?"

"I don't have any medical friends."

"Oh, Mar-tin you have friends," Louisa interjected as she listened from the kitchen. "Chris Parsons."

"Mm, right.

"So, how 'bout it, Doc?" Bert asked again.

"The answer's still no."

Bert crossed his arms. "Fine. Now I guess I'll have to return to being a handyman."

"Good." Martin was oblivious to Bert's glare as he turned around to see how Al was coming along with hanging their wedding photo.

"Is this okay, Doc?" Al asked as he straightened the photograph.

"You'll have to ask Louisa."

"Oh, okay." Putting his hammer back in his toolbox, Al noticed the marble chess board sitting on the coffee table. "You play chess, Doc?"

Martin turned back to face the young entrepreneur. "Yes. I mean, I used to."

"Fancy a game?"

Martin raised his brow. He remembered Ruth mentioning that Al beat her at chess a while back. "Sure. But I may be a touch rusty. It's been a while since I played."

"That's alright."

Martin pulled a chair over to the coffee table and began setting up the board.

"I'm just gonna see if Louisa needs any help," Morwenna said as she escaped to the kitchen.

When Louisa announced that dinner was ready, Al and Martin were still engrossed in their game of chess. "Martin, dinner's ready," Louisa said once more, holding James against her hip.

"Yes, just a minute." He thought for another moment, contemplating his move.

"Martin, now."

Letting out a hiss of air from his nose, Martin stood up and moved to the kitchen. It was a tight fit at the table. James Henry's high chair had to be squeezed in on a corner between Martin and Louisa, with three extra place settings arranged on either side.

"Martin, would you like to do the honors?" Louisa asked, holding out the carving knife.

Martin scrunched his nose. "I don't know."

"C'mon, Doc," Bert encouraged, "show us how good of a surgeon you were."

"Oh, God," he muttered to himself as he stood at the head of the table, all eyes on him. Holding the knife as if it were an oversized scalpel, Martin made his first incision at the leg of the turkey.

Bowls and platters were passed around the small table as everyone dug into the wonderful meal. Louisa was pleased how everything turned out. After placing a few pieces of turkey on the tray of James' high chair, she nudged her husband's foot with her own. He glanced up from his plate to look at her, furrowing his brow.

Sensing he wasn't picking up on her cue to start a conversation, Louisa addressed the table, "So, how is everything?"

Everyone responded at once and James started banging his spoon on his tray. "What did you get for Christmas, James?" Morwenna asked the young Ellingham.

James couldn't quite get the right words out, so Louisa answered for him. "He and Martin started building the new pirate ship he got."

"Ooh, sounds like a lot of fun." She gave Martin a smile and he creased his brow in return.

"There's mince pie afterwards," Louisa announced once the conversation grew scarce.

"Oh, Louisa you sure know the way to a man's stomach," Bert said with a chuckle.

Louisa gave him an awkward smile then looked back to her son. He'd been squeezing his chunks of potato through his fingers, so Louisa picked up a cloth napkin and wiped away the mess.

When Martin moved to stand from his chair, he felt Louisa's foot nudge his leg again. "What?"

"Martin, you are a host at this dinner," she whispered to him. "It's not polite to get up when everyone else is still eating."

"But I'm finished." He wiped his mouth with his napkin then dropped it on his empty plate.

From the opposite end of the table, Ruth watched her nephew and his wife. "Martin, I'm done as well. Why don't I help with the cleanup."

Martin gave his wife a pleading look and she let out a sigh. He moved around the table and took Ruth's plate and the empty turkey platter over to the counter.

"Oi, Doc, keep the turkey comin'," Bert said, lifting his plate in the air.

"God," he muttered to himself. He placed more of the turkey on the platter and handed it back to Bert.

"Proper job with carving the turkey, Doc."

"Mm, thank you."

"Want to finish that game we started?" Al asked when he handed over his dirty plate.

"Um, yes," Martin replied.

As Louisa, Ruth, and Morwenna were cleaning up the kitchen, Martin and Al resumed their game of chess. James was seated on the floor by the tree playing with the new set of building blocks he received. Bert was sitting on the sofa, his head slumped to the side, a snore escaping his mouth every now and again.

Martin glanced at the ex-plumber with a curled lip.

"Your move, Doc," Al said, bringing Martin back to attention.

"Dessert is on the table," Louisa announced a few moments later. "We have tea and coffee as well."

". . . And checkmate," Al said as he moved his bishop next to Martin's king.

"What?" Martin furrowed his brow, stymied at how Al was able to outplay him.

Al chuckled. "No worries, Doc. You played a good game. Hey, Dad?" Al nudged his father's foot with his own and Bert jostled awake.

"What is it son?"

"Pies are ready." He nodded towards the kitchen.

Bert slowly pulled himself to his feet, glancing at the chess board. "My boy beat ya, Doc? I didn't even know he was this good. Do you think he should enter one of those national competitions or something? There's a quite a bit of money in that if you win, right?"

"Dad . . ." Al shook his head and Bert put his hands up in defense as he turned towards the kitchen.

"Sorry about that, Doc."

"Mm, it's fine," he said, picking up the chess pieces and depositing them in the black, velvet bag. "You're very good actually. How did you learn to play?"

Al smiled. "Taught myself."

"Mm."

"Don't worry, Doc, you'll beat me someday."

Martin grunted again and tied the velvet bag shut. Picking up James, he joined everyone else in the kitchen, only for a cup of tea though.

As Louisa was saying goodbye to her guests, James toddled over and tugged on the skirt of her dress. Bending down, she picked up her little boy and settled him on her hip.

Morwenna tickled his cheek. "He's starting to look like a handsome little fella, isn't he?"

Louisa brushed her fingers through James's hair. "Yeah, he's really starting to grow."

"Pretty soon he'll be startin' school."

"Oh, I know. Time goes by too fast." She looked down at her son. "I wish he'd stay this young forever."

Morwenna chuckled. "I left a little somethin' for James under the tree."

"Oh, Morwenna, you shouldn't have."

"I was out with Janice a few weeks back and thought it would be perfect for the little guy."

"Did you hear that, James?" Louisa said to her son. "Morwenna got you a Christmas present." James giggled at his mother's lilting tone.

"Louisa, what an excellent meal," Bert thanked her as he joined the group.

"Aw, thank you, Bert. It was wonderful having you and Al join us."

He placed his battered gray cap on his head. "Happy Christmas to you and the Doc."

"Thank you, Bert. Happy Christmas." She gave him a wave as he shuffled past Morwenna.

"C'mon, then," Morwenna said, taking Al's hand.

Louisa smiled at the gesture. "Martin?" She looked to her husband in the living room and gestured with her head towards their departing guests. He grunted and joined his wife.

"Thanks for lettin' us spend Christmas with you, Doc."

"Mm, you're welcome." He was caught off guard when his receptionist suddenly hugged him. He stiffened at the contact but after a few seconds relaxed and placed a broad palm between her shoulder blades.

Louisa felt a pull in her chest at the interaction between Martin and Morwenna. They really have grown close over the time she's worked at the surgery. They had their differences, since Martin wasn't the easiest man to please, but in their own way, both cared for each other.

"Happy Christmas, Doc," Morwenna said as she pulled away.

"Mm, Happy Christmas."

Louisa waved as the two left the surgery. Closing the door, she let out a tired sigh.

"Would you like me to take him?" Martin asked, gesturing to James. "You look tired."

"Thank you, Martin." She handed James to his father and headed back to the kitchen, where Ruth was still nursing her cup of coffee.

"Oh, Martin, Morwenna said she left something under the tree for James."

"Hmm?" He turned around to face the tree, noticing a silver-wrapped present underneath. "Yes."

"I have something for him as well," Ruth said, standing and heading for the pantry. Retrieving the gift she brought, she handed it to Martin.

James grabbed at the wrapping paper of Ruth's gift and Martin helped him finish tearing it away. A brand new stuffed bear was revealed and James open and closed his hands, desperately wanting to hold his new toy.

"Oh, James, what do you say to your Great Aunt Ruth?" Louisa placed a hand on his head and he looked up at her with a smile. "Thank you, Ruth," she said for him.

"You're welcome. I figured he could always use a new stuffed animal."

Picking up Morwenna's gift, she handed it to Martin. He opened it and showed his son the children's pirate book. Martin looked at his wife with a concerned expression. "Do you think this is appropriate for him? I mean, swords and fighting?" He gestured to the cover of the book.

"Oh, Martin, it's a children's book. I'm sure there isn't any violence in it." She turned her attention back to James. "Maybe Daddy can read this before bed tonight, hmm?"

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he buried his face in Martin's neck, his new bear still clutched in his tiny hands.

"Louisa, I think he's getting tired," Martin said as he adjusted James in his arms.

"That'll be my cue to head out," Ruth announced.

"You can stay a bit longer, Ruth. We don't mind," Louisa said.

Ruth shook her head. "I really should be getting back. But could I trouble my nephew for a ride home?"

"Um, yes. I can drive you." Martin transferred James to his mother's arms then went in search for his car keys.

"Thank you for coming, Ruth."

"My pleasure, dear. I enjoyed it."

"Um, are you ready?" Martin asked as he slipped on his overcoat.

"Yes," Ruth replied, moving to the pantry to pick up her handbag. "Have a good night."

"You too, Ruth. And Happy Christmas."

Ruth gave Louisa and a sleepy James a smile before following her nephew out the kitchen door.

Louisa placed a kiss to her son's head. "Let's get you bathed and ready for bed, hmm?"

When Martin returned from dropping off Ruth, he could hear his wife's muffled voice coming from upstairs. Quietly stepping into their bedroom, he knocked lightly on the ajar bathroom door.

"Martin?"

"It's me," he said. He could hear the water draining from the tub, followed by a squeal from James. He moved away from the doorway and sat down on the bed.

Louisa left the bathroom, holding James in a towel, and retrieved his pyjamas from the top of the dresser. After dressing James, she set him on his feet and took his hand. "Alright, James, bedtime."

James followed his mother across the hall to his room. He was picked up and laid down in his cot. When Martin entered the room, James scrambled up on his feet, lifting his arms towards his father.

Martin brushed a hand over his son's head. "You have to go to sleep now, James."

"Da-ee," he said, this time with none of his usual enthusiasm.

"You must be tired, James."

James continued to hold his arms out for his father and Martin gave in. Holding his son against his chest, he sat down in the rocking chair.

"I'll just give you two some time alone," Louisa said before leaving the nursery.

Martin stared down at James, who curled himself against his chest. He absently brushed the thin wisps of blonde hair behind his son's ear. It was a long day and it seemed the Christmas festivities had finally tired James out.

When he was sure that James was sound asleep, Martin carefully laid him back down in his cot. Pulling his blankets over his small form, Martin placed the stuffed bear Ruth had given him next to James.

"Is he asleep?" Louisa asked.

Martin turned around to face his wife. He wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there. "Yes."

Louisa walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek against his chest. "Thank you for a memorable Christmas."

"Mm." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"I'll never forget it." She looked up at him.

"Me neither." He leaned down and kissed her slowly. Pulling away, they both turned to look at their son. Martin reached to touch James' forehead.

"Are you really taking note of his temperature when you do that?" Louisa asked, always curious to know why.

"Mm. It's important to monitor an infant's body temperature."

"I see."

"And, um, physical contact provides a sense of security."

Despite the technicality of his words, Louisa knew it was Martin's way of expressing love and affection for their son. She took hold of his hand and entwined their fingers. If she wanted, Louisa could have stayed like that forever - she and Martin watching over their son.

"C'mon, let's go to bed," Louisa yawned, leading him out of the nursery. "I'm absolutely knackered." With a half smile, Martin followed his wife to their bedroom.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Boxing Day was a quiet affair in the Ellingham household. They went for their usual afternoon walk to let James Henry do a bit more exploring of the village and the beach. Clive and Sally Tishell were also out and about, and of course, Mrs. Tishell had to say hello to Martin, as well as get a look at the ever-growing James. Clive and Louisa gave each other a look, both understanding that this was always how it was going to be between their spouses.

Mrs. Tishell offered an invitation to have the Ellinghams over for lunch, but Louisa politely declined, knowing she and Martin would feel extremely uncomfortable. They headed back to the surgery and put James down for a nap after his lunch.

Louisa finally agreed to let Martin try and teach her how to play chess. She quickly grew frustrated and confused.

"Martin, I'm not sure this is working," she said, shaking her head.

Martin blew a hiss of air from his nose. "Louisa, it's not that difficult. Just watch me."

"I am," she retorted. "But the way you're explaining it just makes it more confusing."

"The goal is to checkmate, or capture, my king. See?" He held up the white piece indicating the king.

Louisa nodded. "Ok."

"Here, I'll show you." He rearranged the board to show her an example of a checkmate.

"Oh, I see." Louisa stared at the board for another minute.

"Would you like to start over?" Martin asked.

Louisa looked at him from across the kitchen table. She smiled. "You're on, Dr. Ellingham."

He grunted and started resetting the chessboard. After ten minutes into their game, Martin was waiting for Louisa to finish her move. She stared down at the board in concentration. In his head, he had the perfect set of moves planned out. He had let the game linger on to give her a chance, and so far, she was starting to give him a run for his money. She picked up her last knight and placed it next to his queen. Martin easily captured her knight, but left his king open and vulnerable on one side. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Louisa swooped in with her bishop.

"Is that checkmate?" she asked, looking at him from across the board.

Martin furrowed his brow. How could he have been so stupid? he thought to himself. "Um, yes, it is."

"So I win?"

Martin glanced up at her. "Yes."

Louisa raised her arms in victory, proud that she was able to outsmart her doctor husband. She gave him a smile and reached out to cover his hand with her own. "You didn't let me win, did you?"

He shook his head, now wishing that he did. "It was all you."

"Good." She noticed him look away towards the kitchen window. Getting up, she moved around the table to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around his middle and let her chin rest against his shoulder. "Oh, Martin, don't take it personally," she said, nuzzling her cheek against his. "I must have just caught you in a moment of weakness."

"Mm." He started gathering the chess pieces and placed them in the black velvet bag.

Louisa reached a hand up to run her fingers through his short, greying hair. Kissing his cheek, she said, "How about I make it up to you, hmm? I'll make you dinner - whatever you want, you decide."

Martin grunted again. "Fish," he replied with a slight grin, knowing his wife easily grew tired of eating it.

She gave his arm a playful smack, knowing he requested fish on purpose. "Is this because I beat you at chess?"

"No, I really do want fish." He turned his head to look at her.

Louisa's frown turned to a smile as she gazed down at his innocent face. "What kind of fish?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Pollock," he said.

"Your favourite." She ran her fingers through his hair once more then leaned over and kissed him. "I'll head out in a little bit." Giving his shoulder a gentle pat, she turned towards the stairs to go check on James.

Louisa was in the middle of cooking the rice for dinner when she felt a pair of hands settle on her hips. She leaned back into him, cherishing the moment. "Are you happy now?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I meant, are you happy you finally get to eat fish again?"

"Mm." Martin turned his head slightly, his nose brushing against her hair. It smelled good, he thought. It made his heart pound to think of such things about his wife.

Louisa felt like she was in a dream. He hasn't been this affectionate and gentle since the evening they were getting ready for the school's Christmas concert. If only he was like this all the time. "Is, um, James still in his playpen?" Louisa asked, feeling her husband's warm lips on her neck.

"Mm, yes," he said, placing a series of light kisses behind her ear.

Louisa closed her eyes and stopped stirring the simmering rice. This was nice, she thought. She reached behind her to touch his cheek when the timer for the fish went off. The noise startled them both, as they were lost in their private moment. She felt Martin step away from her. Opening the door of the cooker, she pulled out the broiled pollock.

"I'll, um, get James," Martin said, their romantic moment now turning awkward from the disruption.

During dinner, James Henry was rather fussy and uncooperative. He refused to let either his mother or his father feed him. And when allowed to use his spoon himself, he got a kick out of watching his dinner fall with a _splat_ on to the kitchen floor.

"James Henry Ellingham," Louisa addressed her son in a low, angry tone. "That is not proper behaviour for the dinner table, young man."

James stared back at his mother, not understanding what he was doing wrong. He reached for a green bean on her plate and Louisa moved it out of his way. "I think it's time you went to bed early, James."

James seemed to understand that. His face screwed into a frown and his eyes began to tear up. He started to cry and kick his legs, wanting out of his high chair. Louisa stood up and hoisted him into her arms. James continued to kick and scream and Louisa was beside herself on what to do. Their little boy was usually so well behaved they hardly had to use any discipline. Maybe this was the beginnings of the "terrible two's" she often heard about?

"Da-ee!" James cried, reaching his arms out for Martin.

Looking at his son's red, unhappy face, Martin stood up and took James from Louisa. "I'll handle him."

Louisa started chewing on her lower lip. She nodded and he turned towards the stairs. Letting out a sigh, she began cleaning up James's dinner from the kitchen floor.

Even after she finished cleaning the floor, James's cries could still be heard coming from upstairs. She fiddled with the hem of her cardigan before deciding to check on how Martin was faring.

The door to the nursery was closed and James could still be heard as he cried. After knocking, Louisa entered the room. James was sitting in his cot crying and Martin was in the rocking chair watching him. "What are you doing?" she said as she hurried over to her wailing son.

"I'm letting him cry it out."

"Martin, don't you think he's cried enough?"

"Louisa, he misbehaved at the dinner table. He's got to learn that he won't get affection when he acts out."

Louisa gave him a look then turned and picked up James. "Mum!" he cried, burying his face in his mother's neck.

Louisa rubbed her hand up and down her son's back, trying to calm him. "Shh, shh. It's alright, James," she whispered in his ear. Using a swaying motion, Louisa attempted to get James to fall asleep. "It's alright sweetheart. I'm sorry I was cross with you, but you can't act like that at the dinner table. I know you don't know any better." She peppered his head with light kisses.

Martin watched his wife as she tried calming James. He'd never been a father before. He had no idea what type of discipline to give his son. He tried not to think about his own childhood; when he was locked in the cupboard under the stairs or received a whack from his father's belt for misbehaving. He couldn't imagine doing that to James. Instead, he just sat and watched him in his cot, forcing himself not to get up and comfort him.

"Louisa, I'm sorry," Martin said as he stood up from the rocking chair. "I should have comforted him or . . ."

"I understand, Martin. This is new for both of us. We'll figure it out eventually."

He stepped in front of her and placed a hand on the back of their son's head. James turned his face to look at his father.

"I'm sorry, James." Curling a strand of hair behind James's ear, Martin turned and left the nursery.

Louisa watched him leave but continued to sway and comfort James. She hoped he wasn't thinking about his own miserable childhood. The last thing she wanted was for Martin to withdraw from her again.

Finally, James stopped crying and his breathing was now quiet and even. Laying him down in his cot, Louisa leaned over the railing to touch his cheek. After adjusting his blankets, she quietly closed the door and headed across the hall to their bedroom.

She found Martin standing at the dresser, staring at the class picture Elliot had given her. "Martin?"

He didn't move or reply.

"Martin, what's wrong? If this is about James, I understand. We're both learning how to be good parents."

He set the picture frame down. "It's not about James."

"Then what?" He was silent again. Louisa let out an exasperated breath. "Talk to me, Martin." She put a hand on his shoulder and he stepped away from her. "Martin?"

He pulled open one of his drawers and picked up the letter. He dropped it on top of the dresser. Louisa looked from him to the note.

She shook her head. "I don't understand what you mean, Martin."

"Why did he say those things about you?"

"Elliot? I don't know, Martin. He was just saying thank you."

Martin scowled, tilting his head to the side. "So you keep saying."

Louisa crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "Martin, I don't know what the big deal is? He's a colleague, nothing more."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think so."

Louisa took a step closer to him, her glare growing more fierce. "Don't you _dare_ make that accusation. I'm not leading him on."

"How would I know. You spend eight hours a day in the same building together."

Louisa closed her eyes, trying to contain her anger. She didn't want to fight with him, especially this early after the holidays. Opening her eyes, she said, "You're my husband, Martin. I would never do something like that to you."

His eyes seemed to soften, but the frown was still unmoving. "I know you wouldn't. It's _him_ I don't trust."

She put both hands on his shoulders, and this time he didn't shake her off. "Should I talk to him?"

Martin shook his head. "If it happens again, _I'll_ talk to him."

Louisa snaked her arms around his neck and looked up at him. My extraordinary man, she thought to herself. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm." He relaxed against her, reveling in the feel of his wife's fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

"I love you so very much, Martin," Louisa said, looking into his eyes. "I don't want anyone to come between us."

"I won't let that happen. I can't bear to be without you, Louisa."

"Martin . . ." She placed a hand on his cheek, letting her thumb follow the curve of his lower lip. Leaning up, she kissed him.

Martin closed his eyes, feeling himself relax into their kiss. He placed a broad palm on the small of her back, bringing her closer to him.

Louisa smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. Pulling away, she unbuttoned his jacket and pushed it off him.

"Louisa . . ." he breathed out.

"Shh. Don't think, Martin. Just feel." She loosened his tie and let it drop to the floor. He looked down at his discarded clothing with a furrowed brow. He bent to pick them up but Louisa stopped him.

"Leave it be." She backed him up against the bed and pushed him down to a sitting position. Now standing taller than him, Louisa leaned down and kissed him again and Martin pulled her into his lap.

When they came up for air, Louisa let her forehead rest against his. Her fingers started with the buttons of his shirt.

Martin stared at her as she concentrated on the task at hand. He smoothed a hand down her back. "I love you, Louisa," he said.

Louisa couldn't slow her breathing. Whenever he said those words to her, it made her heart race. With her, Martin was an entirely different person. He loved her in a way she never felt with anybody else. And she loved him back just as much.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Another quick update, I know! I've had some unexpected free time the past few days and decided to take advantage of it while my writing is starting to come to me a lot easier. It's probably the anticipation of the new series that's sparking my need to write, I don't know. But there is so much more I have to share with you guys that I hope you'll stick around. And as always, your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated to a young writer like me. Enjoy!**

Chapter Seventeen

On Tuesday the surgery was reopened and Louisa was due to return back to school. She was gathering several papers to put in her messenger bag when Janice entered the kitchen through the back door.

"Morning, Louisa," the girl said, coming to a halt beside James' high chair.

Louisa looked up at Janice, giving her a smile. "Morning. How was your Christmas?"

"Oh, you know . . ." She waved a hand back and forth. "I spent it with Joe and his family."

"Really? I didn't know you two were so serious."

Janice nodded. "Yeah, it was a bit awkward, though. Joe and his brother hardly said two words to each other the entire time."

Louisa gave Janice a sympathetic smile. "I suppose families can be like that."

"Yeah. How was your Christmas? I bet the little man here enjoyed himself." Janice looked down at James as she ruffled his hair.

"He did. Father Christmas was very generous this year."

"Well, I have quite the day planned for us."

Louisa grabbed her coat and scarf from the rack next to the door. "He's been a little difficult lately, so if he gives you any trouble, give me a call. Okay?"

"Will do." She looked back down at James and grinned.

After knotting her scarf and buttoning her coat, Louisa moved over to James. "Will you be a good boy for Mummy today, James?" she asked her little boy. James gazed up at her with a wide smile. Louisa kissed the top of his head then slung her bag over her shoulder. She gave a small wave to her son before finally leaving through the kitchen door.

Janice let out a breath as the door clicked shut. She hoisted James out of his high chair, and when his feet hit the ground, he rushed down the hallway under the stairs. "James, no! Wait!" Janice hurried after him before he could get into trouble.

Martin was just pulling the disposable paper down his examination bench when he heard his son's giggles coming from the hallway. The pitter-patter of little feet pounding on the carpeted floor caused Martin to stall his movements.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he hurried through the doorway into his father's consulting room.

Martin's eyes grew wide as his son toddled into the room. "James? What-what are you doing in here?" He felt James tug on the leg of his trousers and Martin picked him up. "Louisa!" he shouted.

"She already left, Doc," Janice said as she appeared in the doorway.

"Why aren't you watching him?"

Janice took a step back at Martin's angry tone. "Sorry, Doc. All I did was set him down and off he went."

"You should be paying more attention to him."

"It won't happen again. I promise."

Martin moved to hand James back to Janice but the boy held on tightly to his father's neck, not wanting to be separated. "James, you need to go with, um . . ."

"Janice," the childminder finished for him.

"Right," he said, averting his eyes. He tried prying his son's hands away from his neck, but it only made the situation worse. "James, you can't stay with me. I have patients."

"Here, I've got him." Janice pulled the young Ellingham away from Martin, which sparked a cry from the toddler. "It's alright, James. You'll see your daddy later."

A pained expression fell over Martin's face as he watched Janice leave the consulting room with an unhappy James. He hated to see his son so upset. And he felt powerless when he had no idea how to make it better for him. The click-clack of plastic jewelry pulled Martin from his thoughts.

"Doc, your first patient's here," Morwenna announced as she stood in the doorway of the consulting room, a sleeve of notes in her hands.

"Yes. Send them in," he said, taking the notes from his receptionist and moving behind his desk.

. . .

Later that same day, Louisa was in her office going over the school's budget when her eye caught the photo Elliot had given her on the windowsill. She remembered their little row the other night when Martin confronted her about Elliot's note. It being Christmas Eve, she didn't read too much into what he said about her in his letter. But after thinking about it all morning, Louisa did find his words to be a bit too personal for her liking.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Louisa figured Elliot would be taking his lunch break as he watched the kids while they played outside. Taking a look outside the window, she could see him leaning against the vegetation and the rock wall eating a sandwich. Letting out a sigh, she figured this might be the best time to talk to him about his letter. Grabbing her coat, she left her office.

"Hey, hey!" Louisa addressed a group of boys who were roughhousing. "No silliness! Is that clear?"

The boys froze under the stern look of the headmistress. "Yes, Miss," all three of them said at once.

"Right," she nodded before making her way over to Elliot. "Mr. Keane?"

Elliot turned to look at her and he smiled. "Mrs. Ellingham! What brings you out here this afternoon?"

Louisa shrugged her shoulders as she crossed her arms. "Nothing much," she replied in a nonchalant tone. "Just felt like some fresh air, that's all."

Elliot nodded and pulled out an apple from his bag. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yes, it was wonderful. And you? Do anything special?"

"Went up to London to visit my mother."

"Aw, that was nice of you."

He nodded again, taking a large bite from his apple. "She's getting up there in age now." He smiled and let out a chuckle. "She keeps telling me to meet someone already."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "You know how it is?"

"Yeah. Listen, Elliot, there was something I wanted to talk with you about."

He bit into his apple again, chewing quickly. "Sure."

Louisa started worrying her lower lip. "It's, um, about the letter you sent along with the gift you gave me."

Elliot furrowed his brow, feeling confused. "Letter? I don't remember sending a letter."

Louisa was now confused herself. "Are you sure you don't remember?" He shook his head. "You dropped off a gift at the surgery about a week ago."

"I did?"

Louisa nodded as she looked at him askance. "Elliot, are you feeling okay?"

He set his apple core down on a napkin. "Yes, why?"

Louisa shook her head. "Well, it's just, I felt that what you said in your note was a little inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?"

Louisa sighed. She felt like she was going around in circles with this conversation. "Some of what you said about me was a bit too personal. And my husband, Martin, well, he wasn't very happy when he stumbled upon it."

Elliot pushed himself away from the wall to stand up straight. Crossing his arms, he said, "What are you saying, Louisa? That I'm trying to seduce you?" His face turned angry and Louisa took a step back from him.

"No. It's just . . . We're colleagues, Elliot, that's it. You're a wonderful teacher and I'm glad to have you here, but it's not appropriate for colleagues to get close to each other, especially at school."

His eyes were still angry, and when he reached out and grasped her wrist, Louisa tried to suppress a gasp. "Are you going to report me, Louisa?"

Louisa shook her head, feeling panicked by his threatening behaviour. "I just need to know that we can maintain a professional relationship here at school."

Elliot was quiet for a moment until he finally released his grip on her arm. He nodded. "Okay. I can do that. You're married, I understand. I'm sorry about the letter. It won't happen again."

Louisa furrowed her brow as his anger seemed to turn on and off like a light switch. "Thank you. And, um, don't forget there's a mandatory teacher's meeting on Friday after school."

Elliot nodded. "Yes. I'll be sure to write it down."

"Good. Well, that'll be all, Mr. Keane."

"Mrs. Ellingham." He smiled as she turned to cross the pavement and back into the school.

Louisa absently rubbed her wrist from where he had grabbed her. "Are you alright, Miss?" asked Jessie, the young girl who developed Kawasaki disease last term.

"Yes, I'm fine, Jessie. You continue playing, alright?"

Jessie nodded and turned back to her game of hopscotch.

"Miss!" one of the kids shouted.

Louisa turned to see the group of boys she had scolded earlier trying to get her attention. She hurried over to see one of them on the ground holding his head. "What did I say about silly behaviour?" She crouched down next to the injured boy. "What happened?"

The injured boy pointed to the group standing to his left. "They threw my football at me."

"Oh, dear." Louisa turned to look at the mischievous group of boys, who were trying to make a sneaky getaway. She snapped her fingers at them. "Oi, you three, in my office, now!" The boys hung their heads as they trudged back into the school. "Ok, where does it hurt?" Louisa asked, turning her attention back to the injured boy.

He rubbed the side of his head. "My head."

By now, Elliot had joined the scene, and the two of them helped the student to his feet, but the boy fell down to his knees, clutching his head. "I feel dizzy," he whinged.

"Elliot, do you have your phone handy?" Louisa asked him.

"Yeah." He dug out his mobile from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed it to her.

Dialing the number for the surgery, Louisa started chewing on her lip. "Morwenna, I need Martin at the school. I have an injured student." She sighed as Morwenna relayed that Martin was already with a patient. "Please, Morwenna. It's an emergency." After being put on hold, and finally getting the response she was looking for, Louisa ended the call. She handed Elliot his mobile. "Okay, Dr. Ellingham should be here in a few minutes, alright?" she said to the injured boy. "Mr. Keane, can you take your class back inside please?"

Elliot nodded and started gathering his students together and ushering them back inside the school.

About five minutes later, Martin came jogging through the gate with his medical bag clutched in his left hand. He bent down on one knee to examine the boy. "What happened?" Martin asked as he checked the child's pupil responses with his pen torch.

"Um, he was hit in the head with a football," Louisa answered. "When he tried standing up he said he was dizzy."

Martin held up a finger and asked the boy to follow it with his eyes, then asked a series of simple questions. "Mild concussion," Martin explained.

"So it's not serious?"

"Not as such. He'll need to take it easy. But if he experiences headaches or anymore dizziness, have him come back to the surgery." Martin stood up with his medical bag.

Louisa helped the boy to his feet. "We'll get some ice for your head in a moment, alright?" The boy looked up at her and nodded.

"Honestly, Louisa, don't you have somebody watching them while they're playing?" Martin asked.

Louisa narrowed her eyes at her husband. "Yes. But I was in the middle of a discussion with said teacher when it happened."

"I see." Martin picked up the blue and white football and handed it to the boy. His mobile began to ring and Martin sighed as he fished it out of his pocket. "Ellingham!" he barked into it. "Morwenna, I have a patient waiting in my consulting room." Pause. "Well, tell them to come to the surgery then." Another pause. "Fine. I'll be there in five minutes." He shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned to his wife. "Another emergency."

"Oh. You best get a move on, then."

"Yes." He remained still as he stared at her.

Louisa began to feel uncomfortable under her husband's intense gaze with a student by her side. "Okay, let's get you inside, shall we?" She gave Martin a smile before she turned with the boy and headed back to the school.

Louisa let out a sigh of relief as she returned to her office. The injured boy had been sent home with a parent and she finally finished her discussion with the group of boys who misbehaved.

As she sat down behind her desk, Louisa still couldn't shake Elliot's odd behaviour. One minute he was angry, the next he was smiling again. And how could he forget about the gift and the note he sent her? It made Louisa think of the eerie memory of Mr. Strain, the previous headmaster who had a psychotic episode and walked into the sea. It made her shudder as she thought about being pushed to the ground while being pregnant with James. She was just glad that Martin was there to handle the situation.

She began to wonder if she should tell Martin about Elliot's odd behaviour. The first few months of teaching at Portwenn Primary he was fine. There was definitely something about him she just couldn't put her finger on. With that in mind, Louisa tried concentrating on the school's budget, but couldn't help be shaken up over Elliot's angry outburst.

. . .

Martin knocked on the door of his latest emergency.

"The door's open!" a grumpy male voice rasped out.

Martin rattled open the door and stepped into the small cottage. "Mr. Hunton!" he bellowed, not seeing any sign of his patient.

"It's Hammond, you git!" the man rasped out from an adjoining room.

Martin ducked his head as he moved through the messy kitchen to a room that resembled a study. Each wall was lined with shelves of books from top to bottom. The patient in question was on the floor, leaning up against a bookshelf, gritting his teeth.

Setting down his medical bag and kneeling next to his patient, Martin asked, "Alright, Mr. Hammond, what's happened?"

"What does it look like? I fell."

Martin gave the ornery man a glare. "Right. And how did you fall?"

"I was sittin' at my desk. When I stood up for another cup of coffee my leg just collapsed out from under me."

"Um, which leg?" The old man wiggled his left foot, indicating his left leg. "Has this happened before?"

Mr. Hammond looked uncertain but eventually shook his head. "Not for a while, at least."

"Mr., um . . . I need you to be completely honest with me or I can't help you."

"Okay, okay," the man grumbled. "I often get leg cramps - mostly in my left leg. It was more intense today. I went to walk it off and it felt like the muscle had turned to jelly. I couldn't support myself."

"I see." Martin rolled up the leg of the old man's trousers, feeling and palpating the calf muscle. "Feels fine to me."

"Only because it took you forever to get here."

Martin gave the man a scowl. "What were you doing before the cramp started?"

"I told you. I was sittin' at my desk readin'."

"Right. Um, most muscles cramps can be due to strenuous exercise or dehydration. I suggest you drink plenty of fluids. Um, try alternating between ice and heat for ten minutes at a time; see which one works best." Martin stood up with his medical bag.

Mr. Hammond stared up at Martin. "Aren't you going to help me up?"

"Right. Yes." Bending down, Martin wrapped an arm around the man's back and hauled him to his feet. He guided him to his chair, where he heavily slumped into it. "Will you be able to get around on your own?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," the man grumbled.

Martin furrowed his brow at the ill-tempered old man. "Right. Um, goodbye." He turned to leave when the man's voice stopped him.

"Wait. Could you refill my coffee cup?"

Letting out a sigh, Martin took the cup and went to the kitchen. "Oh, God," he muttered to himself as he stepped over boxes of food on his way to the counter. He refilled the cup and went back to deliver it to his patient.

Without a word, Mr. Hammond took the cup and sipped from it.

"You're welcome." Martin retrieved his medical bag and finally left the cottage.

While walking down the main road, Buddy scurried beside Martin. "Oh, go away!" he shouted at the canine. "Go bother somebody else!" Buddy didn't care as he continued to follow Martin down the street.

As Martin neared the lifeboat station, he recognised Janice down on the Platt. James was seated in his pushchair as far as he could tell, and Penhale was crouched down at eye level with James.

Didn't the man have things to do? Martin wondered. He tried his best to walk by undetected, but Penhale noticed him out of the corner of his eye. "Afternoon, Doc!"

Martin ignored him but the policeman was insistent. "I have patients who are waiting!"

Penhale jogged up to Martin. "Doc, I have something I need to talk to you about."

"I don't have time," Martin said, trying to step around the constable. "I have a waiting room full of patients. Make an appointment." With that, he was off towards Roscarrock Hill.

"But it's not a medical issue," Penhale sighed as he watched the doc and the little white terrier turn the corner out of sight.

. . .

It started to rain as Martin and Louisa were getting ready for bed that evening. James had fallen asleep without any difficulty and Louisa was thankful that Janice tired him out today. She had too much on her mind to worry over trying to get James to sleep.

Turning out the light in the bathroom, Louisa walked around to her side of the bed. Martin was sitting up against the headboard, reading his medical journal. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she climbed in next to him.

"It sure is raining out there," Louisa said as she opened the latest novel she was working through.

"Mm," was Martin's brief reply as he kept his eyes fixated on his journal.

Louisa couldn't concentrate. She kept replaying Elliot's strange behaviour in her head. She liked Elliot as a teacher, she just hoped there wasn't anything medically wrong with him.

Martin furrowed his brow as his wife continued to read the same page for the last five minutes. He reached out and put a hand on her wrist and she pulled away, letting out a quiet gasp. "Louisa?"

She closed her book and set it on her nightstand. "It's nothing."

"I barely touched you. Did you hurt yourself?"

Louisa put a hand on her wrist. "I said it's nothing, Martin."

"Rubbish. Let me see." He took her left arm and gently rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama top. A faint, yellowish bruise wrapped around her wrist. "What happened?" he asked, skimming his fingers across her damaged skin.

Louisa let out a breath. "I talked to Elliot today about the note he sent with his gift."

Martin frowned as he looked down at her bruised wrist. "Did he do this to you?"

She was silent for a moment. "He didn't mean to, Martin. He wasn't himself."

He looked up at her. "What do you mean he wasn't himself?"

"Well, when I confronted him about what he wrote, he started to get angry and defensive. He thought I was accusing him of seducing me, so he grabbed my arm."

"I'll speak to him tomorrow."

"Martin, no. It'll only make it worse if you intervene. Please, just let me handle it."

"And just how do you expect to handle it, Louisa? What if he hurts you again?" He lowered his voice. "I could never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Louisa's eyes softened at her husband's words. "Martin, I love that you're trying to defend me and everything, but I think it would be best if you stayed out of it. Please?"

Martin was torn between protecting his wife and going against her wishes or letting her handle the situation on her own. "But . . ."

Louisa leaned over and kissed him gently. "What if he did something to you? I would never forgive _myself_ for letting you intervene."

"I have a duty of care . . ."

She placed a hand on his cheek. "I know. I don't think he meant to do any harm."

He glanced down at her wrist. "Does it hurt?"

Louisa absently rubbed the area. "No, not really. You just caught me by surprise."

"Mm." He picked up her hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the underside of her wrist. The gesture brought tears to Louisa's eyes. "You'll tell me if something like this happens again, won't you?"

Louisa nodded, touched by how much he cared for her. He closed his medical journal and turned off his bedside lamp. Settling on his back, Martin waited for Louisa to curl up next to his side. She usually laid her head on his shoulder, but tonight she opted to lay against his chest.

Listening to the steady thump of his heart, Louisa grasped one of his hands tightly, wanting to be near him as close as possible. She felt the mattress shift as his right arm draped over her back, holding her to him. "Goodnight," she heard him whisper.

"Goodnight, Martin," she replied, letting herself drift off to sleep in the comfort of her husband's embrace and the sound of rain pounding against the roof of the cottage.


	18. Chapter 18

**So sorry for the long delay. Real life has been hectic, but I have the next chapter started and hope to get it posted very soon. Again, thank you for your patience as I work through this story. I love seeing your guys' comments. It really pushes me to keep writing, so thank you! I hope you enjoy this next installment!**

Chapter Eighteen

On Friday the rain finally stopped, but the wind continued to howl and bluster throughout the afternoon. The streets of Portwenn were deserted, save for a few shopkeepers pulling in signs and closing up shop for the day. After stopping at the pharmacy to collect his supplies, Martin turned the corner and headed for the fish-sellers down by the Platt. The fisherman running the stand was engaged in a heated argument with an elderly customer.

"What's going on here?" Martin interjected.

The elderly customer and the fisherman turned towards Martin. "He's tryin' to sell me three-day old fish," the old man said, jabbing an accusing finger at the fisherman.

"I told you," the fisherman explained, "the water's been real choppy this week. What with the weather, and all, it's not safe to take the boat out."

The old man scoffed. "But seven pounds for one measly fillet?"

The two men continued to glare at each other over the stand of seafood. "Alright, alright," Martin said, pushing his way in front of the old man. "I'll give you ten pounds for the cod and, um, whatever Mr. . . ." He turned to the elderly gentleman, not quite placing the correct name.

"Hammond," the old man sighed. "Bill Hammond."

"Yes, right. Whatever Mr. Hammond chooses." Martin gave the fisherman a stern look, who after a moment, finally gave in. Pulling out his wallet, he handed over a ten-pound note.

"Thanks, Doc," Mr. Hammond said, reaching out to accept the wrapped fish. His fingers fumbled with the newspaper during the handoff, and the fish fell to the ground. "Oh, bugger!" he hissed.

Martin eyed the old man as he struggled to take hold of his wrapped fish. Bending down, Martin picked it up and handed it to Mr. Hammond. "Does that happen often?" he asked in his strict, medical tone of voice.

"What?"

Martin pointed at the man's hands. "Your hands. Do you often have trouble with the muscles in your hand and arm?"

Mr. Hammond defensively pulled his hand down by his side. "No. It's just my arthritis," he grumbled out. "I am seventy-four you know."

"Mm." Martin continued to scrutinise the man from head to toe, his mind churning with possible diagnoses. "It could be something other than arthritis. You should make an appointment at the surgery."

Mr. Hammond shook his head vigorously. "Don't have time, Doc."

"Suit yourself." Martin tucked his package from the pharmacy under his arm, along with his wrapped fish, and turned to leave when the old man stopped him.

"Actually, Doc, there is one other thing."

Martin sighed. He hated dispensing medical advice on the street. He didn't go through years of medical training for nothing. "What?"

"It's my leg again - been gettin' worse as the days go on."

"Mr. Holland, I'm not going to examine you here, am I? Call the surgery and make an appointment. Goodbye." With that, he turned away from the fish-sellers.

"Tosser," Mr. Hammond grumbled under his breath as he watched the doc quickly turn the corner out of sight.

As Martin neared the top of Roscarrock Hill, he could see Penhale leaning up against the front of the surgery, arms crossed. "Oh, God," he muttered to himself.

"Evening, Doc!" Penhale greeted him as Martin came to a stop at the front door.

"What do you want?"

"I just thought I'd stop by, have a quick chat." Penhale pushed himself away from the wall of the surgery, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides.

Martin scowled. "What for?"

"It's about Janice."

He furrowed his brow. "Janice?"

Penhale nodded. "Janice. James' childminder."

"Oh. Right. What about her?" He watched as the policeman fiddled with his utility belt. "You're not arresting her are you?"

Penhale's eyes widened and he took a step back. "What? No, of course not." He fell silent.

"Then what is it?" Martin snapped, noticing the man's cheeks begin to redden.

Penhale shook his head. "Right, um, well, you see, Janice and I . . . We're, um, together . . . And I was wondering . . ." He swallowed hard, trying to curb his nervousness.

"I don't have time for this, Penhale . . ." Martin placed his hand on the door and was about to enter when the constable's next words stopped him cold.

"I'm going to ask Janice to marry me," Penhale said in a rush, stopping Martin dead in his tracks. "I wanted to make sure it was okay with you and Louisa first, since Janice takes care of your little one and everything. I don't want our potential engagement to, um, interfere with her duties of looking after James."

Martin had no idea what to say. He couldn't even remember the name of his son's childminder, let alone realise she was involved with the local policeman. "I see," was all that tumbled out before Martin pushed his way through the front door of the surgery, leaving Penhale standing outside, confused and uncertain.

Martin was just starting dinner when the kitchen door rattled open and Louisa stepped inside. James turned in his high chair to see who entered, and a grin formed as he recognised his mother. "Mum!" he cried out, raising his arms.

Louisa dropped her school bag by the pantry and hung up her coat and scarf before greeting her little boy. "Hi, sweetheart," she said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his temple. "Did you and Janice have fun today?"

At the mention of their childminder, Martin fumbled with the pan he was holding, accidentally dropping it on the surface of the cooker. Louisa and James turned to face him at the noise.

"Everything alright, Martin?" Louisa asked him.

Martin cleared his throat. "Mm, yes." He quickly righted himself, laying the fish he had filleted in the pan.

Letting go of James' hand, she came up beside Martin. "Sorry I'm so late. The teacher's meeting ran a little longer than I expected."

Martin kept himself fixated on the task at hand. "It's fine," he said, opening the door of the cooker and sliding in the pan of fish.

"Thank you for starting dinner."

"Mm. I figured you'd want to relax when you came home."

Louisa smiled at him. "I'm just going to go wash up."

He briefly glanced at her before looking back down at the washed vegetables on the cutting board. Louisa leaned up and kissed his cheek then left the kitchen, heading for the stairs.

As they ate, Martin became preoccupied, as he usually did, and continued to push the food around on his plate. Louisa, now accustomed to her husband's quiet nature while they ate, tried not to worry as he just stared down at his dinner. "Something wrong, Martin?" she asked.

He looked up at her, shaking his head. "Um, nothing. Except Penhale was here earlier."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "What? Why?"

"He, uh, asked me about, um . . ." He nodded towards James, who was happily smearing applesauce over his high chair tray. "James' childminder . . ."

"Janice. Yes, what about her?" A concerned look spread across Louisa's face. "She isn't in trouble is she?"

Martin shook his head vehemently. "No. He, uh . . . God, why is this so difficult to say," he grumbled to himself.

Louisa reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "Martin, it's alright. You can tell me."

He stared at her for a moment. "Penhale's going to ask Jane, or what's her name, to marry him."

Louisa leaned back in her chair and started to laugh. "Oh, Martin. You had me worried there. I thought you were going to tell me she was arrested or something."

Martin furrowed his brow, not understanding what his wife found so amusing. "No."

Louisa finally stopped laughing and pushed her bangs to the side. "It's about time."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's about time Joe's finally going to pop the question."

"So, you knew they were . . ."

Louisa nodded. "Yes." She continued to smile. "Oh, I'm so happy for Joe."

"What if she declines his proposal?"

"Mar-tin, Janice won't turn him down. But if you spoil it . . ."

Martin scrunched his nose. "I won't. I couldn't care less about Penhale's personal life."

Louisa shook her head and turned to their son. "James Henry," she scolded, taking a napkin and wiping his hands and face. James started to laugh and squirm in his high chair. "You're going to need a bath, young man."

"Bat!" James clapped his hands and started bouncing in his chair.

"Yes, a bath. Now, can you eat one more spoonful for Mummy?" Louisa picked up his plastic spoon and James happily obliged, letting his mother feed him one last bite of his dinner.

"Did he go down okay?" Louisa asked as Martin returned to their bedroom after putting James to bed for the night.

"Yes," he said, peeling off his jacket and loosening his tie.

"Good." Louisa watched him as he changed out of his suit and into his light blue pyjamas. She loved the elegance he exuded when wearing his suits, but wished he wasn't so conservative when it came to his nightclothes.

The mattress dipped as Martin sank into bed beside her. Letting out a breath, he settled on his back and closed his eyes.

Louisa leaned over and turned off her bedside lamp then laid down on her side, facing Martin. She watched him for a few minutes, listening to his steady, quiet breathing. "Martin?" she said. "Are you awake?"

"Hmm," he mumbled.

Louisa shifted closer to him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "What do you think about James attending nursery school a few days a week?"

Martin opened his eyes. Letting out a sigh, he turned his head to face Louisa. "Nursery school?" He frowned. "Louisa, he's not even two years old."

"I know. But it would only be for a few hours a couple days a week. The mum of one of my students mentioned it to me the other day. The school comes highly recommended."

Martin continued to frown and shifted himself on to his right side, forcing Louisa to move from her position on his shoulder. "I'm assuming this school is in the village?"

"Of course."

"Gawd," he muttered, turning his head away.

"Mar-tin! Are you forgetting, I grew up in this village. I turned out just fine. You know I want what's best for our son. He's at that stage developmentally where he's starting to learn to interact with others. And I really think James will like it there."

"But, Louisa . . ."

She reached over and took hold of one of his hands. "Martin, I see the look on his face when we go out for walks. He wants to play with the other children he sees. And I think nursery school will be good for him. Don't you want James to get a head start in his education?"

Martin was quiet for a few breaths. He wanted nothing more for his son to have the best education, but nursery school - in Portwenn? He could just picture James Henry coming home with any number of bacterial and viral infections that could be picked up in an unhygienic environment such as a nursery school.

"Martin?"

His wife's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hmm?"

"Is it that you don't think he's ready for something like that yet?"

Martin wasn't sure. He always thought he'd be the one pushing for James' education, not Louisa. Was he not ready to let their son take that inevitable step in growing up? "I don't know," he eventually said, not really paying close attention to what she was saying.

Louisa began circling her thumb over the back of his hand. "Maybe we can take a tour of the school? On a trial basis - see if James likes it or not?"

Martin let a breath of air through his nose. "I suppose, if you really want to, and you think James is ready for it, we can try out the nursery school."

Louisa smiled. She reached over and placed a hand on his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, gazing into his eyes. She knew Martin was hesitant - she was too. She wasn't ready for their little boy to grow up yet. But she knew James was an intelligent child who longed to be with other children his age. And like Martin, she too wanted what was best for their son.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, and Louisa briefly ran her thumb over his cheekbone before turning on her other side. She felt Martin wrap himself around her, holding her against his chest. Feeling his warm lips on the nape of her neck, Louisa closed her eyes, realising they were taking another step forward in their lives together.

. . .

The following Monday was hectic for both Martin and Louisa. With the start of the new year, Martin's schedule was full all day and Louisa was behind in her paperwork. She was even more stressed to find that James had been using the school's documents as his drawing paper.

"It's all ruined," Louisa said, dropping a stack of paper filled with coloured lines on the kitchen table.

Martin was looking out the kitchen window as he sipped from his espresso cup. "Maybe you shouldn't have left everything lying about where he could reach it."

Louisa turned to give her husband a look. "Well, this is exactly why I need my own space."

"Or you could just get your work done at the school."

"Mar-tin!" she huffed under her breath. "I'm going to have a long day as it is. I don't need any more added stress."

"Muumm!" James wailed from upstairs.

Louisa brought a hand to her forehead, feeling a headache forming. "I thought you had James dressed and ready, Martin?" she asked, whirling around to face him.

"Louisa, I have an early consultation this morning in . . ." He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. I don't have time. You'll just have to take care of him, I'm sorry." He rinsed out his cup and set it in the sink.

Before he could disappear under the stairs, Louisa said, "Oh, Martin, don't forget we're touring that nursery school I told you about the other night."

"When?"

"I scheduled us for four o'clock this afternoon."

"Louisa, I have patients all day . . ."

"And I'm at school all day." She stepped in front of him, softening her voice. "I figured we might as well get it out of the way now before our schedules get too busy."

Martin sighed, knowing this was one thing his wife wouldn't be too happy if he skipped out on. "Fine. I'll have Morwenna cancel my four o'clock."

Louisa relaxed her shoulders. "Thank you."

"Muumm!" James continued to cry from the second level.

Letting out an exasperated breath, Louisa shouted, "I'm coming, James!" She gave Martin a weak smile then rushed towards the stairs to tend to their son.

At quarter to four, Martin sent Louisa a text message saying he was on his way and that he'd meet her and James at the nursery school. After slipping his mobile in his pocket, he picked up the stack of patient notes and headed out to reception.

"Does this mean I get to leave early?" Morwenna asked as she started filing the stack of notes he'd given her.

"What? No. I'll only be gone for half an hour."

She shrugged. "Was worth a shot. Oh, Mr. Hammond phoned a little bit ago, said he wouldn't be able to make his appointment tomorrow."

"Typical," he muttered to himself. "Why can't any of these people commit to their scheduled appointment?"

Morwenna shrugged again. "He wanted me to ask if you could make a home visit tomorrow instead?"

"If he's able-bodied tell him to come to the surgery. Otherwise, he better be dying if I'm going to make a house call."

Morwenna nodded and sat down behind her desk, picking up the phone.

Martin stopped in the kitchen to grab his overcoat before leaving the surgery. As he made his way through the village, he kept checking his watch, making sure he wasn't going to be late. As he neared the primary school, he saw Elliot closing and securing the gate.

"Evening, Dr. Ellingham!" Elliot greeted him with a wave of his hand.

Martin scowled as he came closer.

"I saw Louisa leave in a rush earlier."

"It's none of your business," Martin grumbled.

Elliot furrowed his brow. "Why don't you ever smile? I mean, if I had a wife as beautiful as Louisa -"

"Shut up!" Martin snapped, coming to a halt in front of the teacher.

Elliot grinned, finding their little spectacle amusing. He put two hands up in mock defense. "What? Did I say something offensive, _Dr. Ellingham_?"

"I said shut up!"

"Or what?" Elliot shoved Martin back a step. "You know, I've tried to understand what she sees in you."

Martin remained quiet as he listened, but inside he could feel the anger building. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"Maybe it's the profession. I mean, what is it with women and doctors anyway?"

Martin stepped in front of Elliot. "Shut! Up! Don't you dare talk about Louisa like that! And if you ever lay another finger on my wife, or hurt her again in any way, I will report you to the board of school governors! And I'll make damned sure you never teach again in Cornwall, is that understood?"

Elliot stared back at Martin with a blank look.

"Mr. Kent!" Martin shouted at the teacher, trying to get his attention. "Are you listening to me?!"

Elliot put a hand to his forehead and stumbled forward. Martin tried catching him but he was dead weight. The teacher fell to the pavement and Martin rolled him on to his back. He quickly pulled out his phone and dialed 999, requesting an ambulance, then called the surgery. "Morwenna, it's Dr. Ellingham," he started, noticing Elliot's body begin to shake in jerky movements. "I'm at the school. I need you to bring me my medical bag - it's urgent. Yes, urgent means now!"

He shoved his phone in his trouser pocket then took off his overcoat and rolled it up, placing it under Elliot's head. "Oh, God," he muttered under his breath. He kept an eye on his watch, timing the seizure.

"Everything alright, Doc?" A passerby asked over Martin's shoulder.

"What?" Martin was startled as he turned around to see a middle-aged woman watching the scene. "No! Go away!"

"Should I call an ambulance?" the woman asked, not wanting to leave.

"It's on its way! Now please, go away!"

After a few minutes, Elliot stopped seizing and Martin turned him on his side. "Mr. Kent!" he shouted.

"Here, Doc!" Morwenna announced as she came running up the street with his medical bag. "I called Penhale," she said, bending over to catch her breath.

Martin rummaged around in his medical bag, looking for his pen torch, but couldn't find it. Patting the front of his suit, he pulled it out of the left breast pocket. "Mr. . . . Teacher, can you hear me?" He gently patted Elliot's face, trying to bring him back to consciousness.

"Is there anything I can do, Doc?" Morwenna asked.

"Yeah. Get these people out of the way," he gestured to the crowd of onlookers behind him.

"You heard the man, go! Move along!"

"Doc, everything alright!" Penhale shouted as he jogged up beside Martin and Morwenna.

"No, everything's not alright," Martin snapped, still trying to get Elliot to open his eyes. Pulling up on his eyelids, Martin shined his pen torch in each eye. He patted Elliot's face once more and the teacher finally came around.

"What?" Elliot mumbled.

"Mr. . . ."

"Keane," Morwenna whispered to him.

"Mm, Mr. Keane, can you hear me?"

"Yes. God, what the hell are you doing?" He pinched the bridge of his nose then tried pushing Martin away.

"You've had a seizure. Has this happened before?" Martin asked, taking the man's wrist and counting out his pulse.

"What? No." He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain of his headache intensified.

"Penhale, check on that ambulance," Martin said, turning to look at the policeman.

"I'm on it, Doc." He turned away, pulling out his phone.

"Do you remember what happened before the fit started?"

"No. Would you stop shining that in my face?" He pushed Martin's arm away. "It's making my headache worse."

Martin furrowed his brow. "What do you think it is, Doc?" Morwenna said next to his ear.

Martin jerked away from her. "He could be epileptic." He looked back down at Elliot, who closed his eyes again. "No, Mr. Keane you need to stay awake! Morwenna, I need you to stand back. I think he's going to have another fit. Where's that bloody ambulance!"

"It should be here soon, Doc," Penhale announced, crouching down next to Martin.

"Soon's not good enough. This man needs urgent medical attention."

"Doc, is he gonna die?" Morwenna asked.

"No. But the longer we wait here the worse he'll be." Finally a siren could be heard and the trio turned to see the ambulance coming up the street.

"Dr. Ellingham?" one of the paramedics asked.

"Yes," Martin said, standing up. "Male, mid thirties. Suffered a tonic-clonic seizure, lasting approximately three minutes."

The paramedics started moving Elliot on to a stretcher. "Is he epileptic?"

Martin shook his head. "Not sure. This seems to be the first incident."

"Alright, we'll take over from here."

"I would recommend a CT and an MRI once he's in hospital," Martin said, moving out of the way as the stretcher was wheeled into the back of the ambulance. "When he regained consciousness he complained of a headache."

"Okay, thank you, Dr. Ellingham, we'll be in touch."

Martin nodded then looked down at his watch, seeing he was already ten minutes late for their appointment at the nursery school. He checked his mobile, seeing a few unread texts and missed calls from Louisa. "Morwenna, take my medical bag back to the surgery."

"Sure, Doc."

"And cancel the rest of my appointments for the day."

Morwenna nodded then picked up his medical bag and turned to head back to the surgery.

Penhale took out his notepad and pen. "Okay, Doc, I'm going to need a full statement on what happened."

Martin frowned. "No you don't."

"Actually, I do. That woman over there said she heard you and Mr. Keane shouting at each other."

"Don't be ridiculous." Martin tried moving past the constable, but Penhale blocked him.

"I'm not sayin' you harmed Mr. Keane, just trying to rule out foul play."

"Idiot," Martin mumbled. "I don't have time for this. I'm late." He shoved his way past Penhale and started towards the nursery school at a quick pace.

Louisa was waiting in the lobby of the nursery school with James situated in her lap. With only a few minutes until their scheduled tour, she kept glancing down at her wristwatch. It wasn't like Martin to be late. Pulling her mobile out from her purse, she dialed her husband's number. Receiving no answer, she started worrying her lower lip, afraid something had happened to him. Her mind flashed back to when he was held hostage by that woman and her son. She'd never been so worried about him and tried to tell herself that something urgent must have come up for him to be so late. She sent Martin another text message and let out a sigh.

James looked up at his mother and started batting at her face. Louisa smiled down at him and stood up, shifting James to her hip. She needed to move around. "He'll be here, James," she whispered to her son. "He won't let us down."

"Mrs. Ellingham?" a woman's voice greeted Louisa.

She turned around from the window to see a young woman, a few years younger than herself, waiting with a clipboard in her arms.

"We're ready for you now. Would you like to start the tour?"

"Um, I'm waiting for my husband. He should be here soon." Louisa gave the woman a weak smile. "He's a doctor, so he's probably just held up by a patient."

The woman smiled. "I understand. I'm Elizabeth Leary, head teacher." She stuck out her arm and Louisa shook her hand.

"Louisa, pleasure to meet you. And this is James - James Henry." She looked down at her son.

"My, aren't you a handsome little fella," Miss Leary said, tickling James' cheek.

James turned his head away from the strange woman, burying his face in his mother's neck. Louisa brushed her hand over his head. "It's okay, James."

"I'd be happy to wait a bit longer or we can get started and just catch up your husband once he arrives."

Louisa chewed on her lower lip. Taking another glance out the window, she said, "Why don't we just start the tour now. I'm sure he won't be much longer."

Miss Leary smiled widely, handing Louisa an information booklet of the school. "Right this way," she said, leading Louisa through the entrance of the school.

Fifteen minutes late, Martin finally entered the nursery school. There was no sign of Louisa and James and he feared she might have left without him. He started down a hallway and after a few minutes of searching, found his wife and son, along with another woman, observing a group of children playing.

Martin cleared his throat. "Um, Louisa," he said quietly, hoping not to startle her. She turned around to face him and wasn't expecting such a worried look on her face. She strolled up to him and wrapped an arm around his middle, burying her face in his chest. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as the other woman was watching their embrace. He stepped away and placed a hand on his son's head.

"Da-ee!" James squealed.

Louisa and the other woman chuckled. James reached his arms out for his father and Martin took him into his arms.

"I'm Elizabeth Leary," the woman introduced herself.

"Martin Ellingham." He shook her outstretched hand and turned to look at his wife. Her face still displayed a worried expression.

"I was worried about you," she said in a hushed tone.

"I'm sorry for being late. There was an emergency."

"There always is it seems," Louisa mumbled under her breath, moving ahead of him to follow Miss Leary down another hallway.

Martin stood still for a moment and stared at her back. He glanced down at his son, who was playing with Martin's tie. Letting out a weary sigh, he took a few large strides to catch up to Louisa.

As they neared the end of their tour, Martin's mobile rang and he frowned, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the device. "Ellingham," he said. "What? Morwenna, I'm in the middle of something." Pause. "Alright. I'm leaving now." Ending the call, he shoved his phone back into his pocket then turned to Louisa. He gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Louisa."

"What is it, Martin?"

"I have to leave."

"What? Why?"

Martin handed over James. "It's my patient. The one who made me late. It's bad news actually. I need to get to the hospital."

"Now? Martin, you said you were going to be here."

"I am here!" he snapped, then lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Louisa, you'll just have to finish without me." He looked down at James and ran his fingers over his son's cheek.

She shook her head. "Fine. If your patients mean more to you than your family, then just go." She looked down at the floor, not wanting him to see her tears.

Martin was silent for a moment as he stared at her. It seemed every time they were headed in the right direction, something came up to put a strain on their relationship. "I'm sorry. I have a duty of care - "

"Yes, I know." Louisa glanced up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Sometimes I just wish you weren't the brilliant doctor that you are."

"Louisa . . ."

She wiped at her eyes and turned away from him. "Can we please continue?" she asked Miss Leary, who nodded.

Martin watched his wife follow the head teacher, feeling his chest begin to tighten. The disappointment in her eyes shattered him. And what she said made the feeling even worse: _Sometimes I just wish you weren't the brilliant doctor that you are_. But he couldn't help it. He made an oath the day he graduated medical school to care and treat his patients, even if the patient was an arrogant tosser who couldn't keep his eyes in his own head.

Turning around, Martin headed out of the nursery school. A clap of thunder jolted him out of his thoughts. A few raindrops landed on his nose and Martin quickened his pace. It seemed fitting, he thought; the brewing of a storm just as things with Louisa were beginning to take another turn for the worse.


	19. Chapter 19

**I enjoyed seeing your comments last chapter and many of you mentioned Louisa's behaviour. We all know how testy she can be at times, especially when it comes to having a "normal" family. I just felt the story needed a bit of added tension, since too much happiness tends to get boring at times. And a brief note for this chapter: please bear in mind that my medical knowledge is limited. The Internet and TV have been my source of research for this chapter and hopefully I'm not too far off the mark. Anyway, all of you have been so kind and encouraging I'm amazed! Looking forward to what you think of this chapter!**

Chapter Nineteen

The rain was coming down harder as Martin jogged back to the surgery. Once he entered the cottage, he pulled out his mobile. "Penhale," he said, making his way upstairs to change out of his wet suit. "I need you to pick up Louisa and James from the nursery school. I don't want them walking back in this weather." Pause. "Yes, right away. Thank you." He dropped his phone on the bed and peeled off his soaked jacket.

Ten minutes later, Martin bounded down the stairs and stepped into the waiting room. "You can leave now, Morwenna."

Morwenna looked up at Martin from her computer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Doc, is Mr. Keane going to be alright?"

Martin adjusted his cufflinks, unsure of how to answer her. "Um, I won't know until I see the results of the scans."

"Oh. But it is serious if they need you there, right?"

"Mm." Martin watched his receptionist for a moment. She was staring unknowingly at her computer monitor. "Um, Penhale should be here soon to drop off Louisa and James."

Morwenna turned to look at him. "Okay."

Martin ducked his head. "I'll be off, then."

Taking a glance out the window, she said, "Drive safe."

Martin tried concentrating on his driving, but he kept thinking back to what Louisa had said when he left her at the school.

Ever since he was a child, Martin knew he'd go into medicine. After all, it seemed to run in the family. But being a surgeon was a demanding profession. It required a strong work ethic and Martin was nothing if not dedicated to his work. Back in London, he didn't have plans for a family of his own; his job would never allow that type of freedom. But since starting anew as a GP in Portwenn, everything changed when he met Louisa.

He didn't understand why she couldn't see how important his work was to him. As much as the villagers irritated him, he still had a responsibility to their health. He was trying to make Louisa see how much she and James meant to him, but somehow kept mucking it all up. Being a doctor was all he was ever any good at. And nothing could ever replace his family. It wasn't the patients themselves that he put above Louisa and James; it was medicine, the act of caring and treating someone in need of medical attention. And the man at the hospital who he was going to see was one of them.

Suddenly, Martin swerved the Lexus, avoiding a muddy puddle. He let out a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the mud in the middle of the moor during a rainstorm.

Upon arriving at the hospital in Truro, Martin was directed to one of the wards on the second floor.

"I'll have Mr. Keane's doctor bring you to radiology in a moment," a nurse told him.

Martin looked through the rectangular plate-glass window of the door. Elliot was in one of the beds directly opposite the window. He was unconscious, lying in bed.

"Dr. Ellingham?" a male voice spoke, causing Martin to turn around.

"Yes," he said, looking the doctor up and down. He was about Martin's height, balding, and with a short, greying beard.

"I'm Dr. Richards." He looked down at a binder, which Martin suspected were Elliot's patient notes. "You're the GP in Portwenn, right?"

"Yes."

Dr. Richards flipped through a few pages then closed the binder. "I'll show you down to radiology to see Mr. Keane's scans."

Martin didn't have to look twice at the results of Elliot's MRI. There it was; a light gray, oval-shaped mass in the right frontal lobe of Elliot's brain.

"A tumour," Martin stated the obvious, letting a stream of air escape his nose.

"Yes."

"Can it be removed?"

Dr. Richards was silent for a moment. "I'm optimistic it can."

"Have you told him yet?"

"No. I figured since you're his GP you'd like to do the honours. I'll be with you to explain the upcoming procedure though."

Martin continued to stare at the brain scan. All this time, he wondered, and it was a tumour. "Prognosis?"

Dr. Richards reached up to rub the back of his neck. "With an oligodendroglioma it's hard to tell." The neurosurgeon shifted on his feet. "Depending on the grade and how much of the tumour I can remove, he could live for years. But like I said, I can't really say until I have a look in there."

"I see." Martin turned to leave. No matter how much he disliked Elliot, relaying news such as this was the most difficult thing he ever had to do.

Elliot was awake and sitting up in the hospital bed when the two doctors arrived. He gave Martin a weak grin. "Never thought I'd be glad to see you."

Martin grunted and picked up Elliot's chart, scanning and flipping through pages, thinking of how he was going to break the news. Finally, he looked at his patient. "Um, Mr. Keane, I have some rather bad news."

Elliot looked from Martin to Dr. Richards. "What is it?"

"There's an oligodendroglioma in the right frontal lobe of your brain," Martin explained.

"An oligo-what?"

"An oligodendroglioma - a tumour."

"Oh." Elliot remained silent and impassive as he let the news sink in.

Martin cleared his throat. "Um, this is Dr. Richards, head of neurology."

Dr. Richards stepped forward. "We're going to try and remove as much of the tumour as possible."

Elliot continued to stare past the two doctors. He swallowed hard, afraid to hear the answer to his next question. "How long do I have?"

"With this type of tumour it's hard to say. Depending on how fast it's been growing, and how much I can remove, you could be in remission for years. But I can't be certain until I have a look at the tumour itself."

"In my brain, you mean?"

Dr. Richards nodded. "Yes."

Elliot chuckled. "So today, this fit I had . . . and the way Louisa's been acting around me is because of this tumour?"

"Mm. Abnormal electrical activity in your brain caused the seizure," Martin explained. "The tumour is located in your frontal lobe, which has been altering your behaviour."

Elliot looked down at his hands. "Can I have a word with Dr. Ellingham in private, please?" he asked.

Dr. Richards nodded and turned to leave the room.

Elliot glanced up at Martin. "Martin, I'm . . ." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "I'm really . . . I apologise for any of the strange behaviour I exhibited towards you and Louisa. I didn't even know I was acting different."

Martin nodded. He stood tall as he gazed down at Elliot. He didn't want to feel sorry for him, but the man didn't even know he was a different person at times. "I understand."

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, a few tears rolled down his cheeks. "I don't wanna die, Dr. Ellingham," he admitted, sucking in a breath. "Not yet. There's still so much I have to do." He paused to wipe his face with the back of his hand. "I want what you have."

Martin tilted his head to the side. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Louisa. I've been jealous, tumour or not, I'll admit it." Elliot turned his head to face Martin directly. "I just don't understand why you're so cold and distant with everyone, especially your wife. She loves you - she talks about you all the time. How great a doctor you are; how kind and loving you are with your son." Elliot's voice began to rise. "And it's not fair!"

Martin shifted his eyes around the room, seeing the other patients looking in his direction. "Alright, Mr. Keane, I think I should leave you to rest now."

Elliot glared at Martin. "You don't deserve her, you miserable tosser!"

Martin knew it was the tumour talking, but Elliot's words was like a knife to the gut. For a moment, he was reminded of Louisa's old boyfriend, Danny. How he despised the man and his incessant prattling on about kismet and God working in mysterious ways.

Elliot began to get out of bed, and Martin put a hand on his arm, trying to stop him. "Mr. . . . You need to stay in bed," Martin said.

Elliot shoved Martin's arm away and swung a wild fist at the doctor. "Don't touch me!" he shouted.

Martin wasn't quick enough as he felt the teacher's knuckles make contact with his cheek. He stumbled but caught his balance on the edge of the bedside table. Placing a hand on his cheek, he looked back at Elliot.

"Did you hear me, Ellingham?!" Elliot shouted, attracting the attention of the nurses and the other patients in the room. "You don't deserve her!"

"Schedule a psych consult, would you?" Martin whispered to one of the nurses who appeared by his side. She nodded and headed back to the nurse's station.

Elliot was still fuming and when he leaned over to grab Martin, he fell out of the bed, hitting the tile floor hard and going unconscious.

"God," Martin breathed out, bending down to hoist Elliot up. "Someone get Dr. Richards!" he shouted to no one in particular. Holding Elliot's head in his hands, Martin felt a soft spot on the man's temple.

"Dr. Ellingham, what happened!" came a few minutes later.

Martin looked up at Dr. Richards. "What does it look like?" he snarled. "Give me a hand, would you?"

Dr. Richards and Martin were able to get Elliot back in bed. He was still unconscious. "He fell out of the bed," Martin started to explain. "He hit his head on the way down. The dermis of his temple is beginning to swell. There could be a skull fracture."

Dr. Richards mumbled something under his breath as he gazed at his unconscious patient while probing the side of the man's head. He nodded. "Alright. Get him down for a CT," he instructed a nurse. Turning to Martin, he said, "You're going to have to work on your bedside manner, Dr. Ellingham." He pointed at the small cut on Martin's cheekbone.

Martin reached up and swiped at the blood trickling from his wound. Gazing down at his red-stained fingers, he swallowed hard, trying to fight the building nausea that was threatening to explode. "Right," he said, watching as Elliot was wheeled out of the room, along with Dr. Richards.

"Here, let me get that cleaned up," a nurse said, looking up at Martin.

Martin shook his head, feeling the nausea subside. "Mm. I'll do it myself, thank you." He took the supplies from the nurse's hands and turned away, heading for the nearest lavatory.

After cleaning and applying a butterfly plaster to the cut on his cheek, Martin waited outside the room where Elliot had been. He was looking down at his shoes when Dr. Richards returned.

"Good news," the neurologist began, "as far as the fall is concerned. No fracture, but . . ."

Martin looked up at the other doctor. "What?"

"I have no choice but to go in there and try and remove the tumour today, in case of a hematoma. The scans didn't show anything, but even if there's the smallest evidence of a bleed, we can't wait any longer."

Martin nodded. "I see."

Dr. Richards pulled out a biro from the breast pocket of his white coat, flipping open Elliot's chart and scribbling down a few notes. He grinned. "The two of you know each other, then?"

"Excuse me?"

Dr. Richards glanced up at Martin. "You and Mr. Keane. You don't see a knock like that between strangers." He indicated the cut on Martin's cheek.

Martin averted his eyes from the neurologist. "I'm the village GP, of course we know each other."

"Hmm," Dr. Richards mumbled and Martin glared at him.

"Let me know when he's out of surgery," Martin said brusquely. "I have somewhere I need to be." He quickly turned on his heel and headed down the hallway.

It was still raining when Martin left Truro. As he passed through Wadebridge, it was growing dark and the rain was coming down harder.

"Oh, God," he muttered, seeing flashing lights and yellow barriers in the distance.

"Sorry, mate," a policeman said as Martin came to a stop in front of the flashing police lights. "Road's closed due to flooding."

"What?!" Martin exclaimed.

"The A39 - it's flooded over," the officer shouted over the wind. "Can't let vehicles pass through until tomorrow morning."

"But I have to get to Portwenn," Martin replied.

The officer shrugged. "Sorry. Guess Mother Nature has other plans."

Martin frowned and rolled up his window. Now what? He reached into the breast pocket of his suit, searching for his mobile. It wasn't there. He checked his trouser pockets. Nothing. Bugger, he thought.

Turning on the hands-free calling feature, he tried dialing Louisa's mobile. It managed to get through for a moment, but was cut off due to the poor signal. He pounded his fists against the steering wheel, cursing the terrible day he was having.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his seat, trying to think of what to do. The honk of a car horn and a knock on his window pulled Martin from his thoughts. The policeman was gesturing for Martin to turn around.

Deciding it was best to just head back to Wadebridge, Martin pulled in to the car park of a hotel ten minutes later. He used the phone at the front desk to call Louisa.

"Martin?" he heard her say once he finally got through to her. He'd never been so glad to hear her voice.

"Yes, Louisa it's me," he said, trying to turn away from the man working the front desk.

"Martin, where have you been? You left your mobile at home on the bed."

So that's where it was. "I was at the hospital in Truro seeing a patient. I'm stuck in Wadebridge because the road's flooded over."

"What? Martin, are you alright?"

He could hear the concern in her voice and he quickly tried to reassure her. "I'm fine, Louisa, but I won't be coming home tonight."

"So where are you?"

"I'm at a hotel. They said the roads should be open by tomorrow morning."

"Oh. Well, James will be disappointed you're not here to give him his bath and read him his bedtime story."

Martin looked down at his shoes as he thought of his son. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Martin."

He was silent for a moment.

"Martin, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to talk to James? Maybe hearing your voice will help put him to sleep?"

Martin glanced over at the man behind the front desk. He didn't seem to be paying Martin any attention. "Um, alright."

"James, do want to speak to Daddy?" he heard Louisa say on the other line. There was a bit of rustling before she continued, "Can you say hi to Daddy, James?"

Martin's chest swelled as he heard his son's exuberant voice through the phone. "Da-ee!" James squealed.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Hello James," Martin said. In reply, he heard babbling and a few giggles. "Are you being good for your mother?"

James continued to giggle and eventually Louisa's voice came back on. "Actually, I think hearing your voice made him more awake than tired."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and for a moment, it lifted his spirits. "Mm."

There was a brief pause before Louisa continued, "Um, Martin, I just wanted to apologise for what I said to you right before you left . . ."

"Louisa . . ." He really didn't want to be reminded of her harsh words.

"No, Martin. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I was frustrated that we couldn't even look at a nursery school without some emergency ruining it all. And you are a brilliant doctor, Martin. I'm just so sorry I said that to you." He was silent. "I wish you were here," she added quietly.

Her soft voice mesmerised him, but he couldn't let himself be pulled under her spell. The last words they exchanged as he left her at the nursery school were still fresh in his mind. And for Louisa to think that his patients mattered more to him than his family angered him.

"Should I let Morwenna know in the morning that you'll be late?"

He finally snapped out of his thoughts. "Um, yes. Thank you."

There was a pause, as if she was hesitant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Martin gripped the phone tighter. "Louisa, please don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

He could hear a long sigh. "I know. But I'll always worry about you."

He sucked in a deep breath. "Louisa, I should go. It's getting late . . ."

"Of course." She paused. "Sleep well."

It took him a few seconds to respond. "Yes, you too."

"Goodnight, Martin. I love you."

Martin swallowed hard. He couldn't say it. As much as he loved her, just the thought that she wished he wasn't a doctor made his stomach churn.

"Martin?" he heard his wife's voice once more.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Louisa." He could hear the tremble in his voice. "I'm just really tired. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight." He ended the call and handed the phone back to the man behind the desk.

"Have a good evening, sir," the man said as Martin turned towards the elevator.

Entering his room, Martin slowly made his way to the bed. He was too tired to check for signs of bed bugs and flopped down, still fully dressed in his suit. He remained still for a few minutes, relishing in the relaxation and letting his body recover from a stressful day.

Feeling himself begin to nod off, Martin sat up and took off his jacket, laying it down neatly next him, followed by his tie. He undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt and kicked off his shoes. Laying back down against the mite-infested pillows, he stretched his arms out on either side of him. He closed his eyes and tried to picture James Henry smiling at him, but Elliot's outburst from the hospital came to mind instead: _You don't deserve her, you miserable tosser!_

He turned his head from side to side, trying to forget Elliot's words. It wasn't working. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling. Touching the cut on his left cheek, he winced. Getting up, he headed to the bathroom.

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he examined his wound once more. The skin around the butterfly plaster was still red but starting to grow a faint, purplish colour. He looked at himself more closely. The dark circles under his eyes suggested he needed sleep, but was unable to. The lines on his forehead only added to the grueling and stressful day he had. Letting out a sigh, he turned out the light and headed back to bed.

He laid down on his back. His thoughts turned to Louisa and he started twisting his wedding ring around his finger. He didn't want to go back to how they were after her accident. He blamed himself then. But he couldn't help it. His profession required his immediate attention, no matter if he agreed or not. Surely, Louisa knew that. He loved being a doctor; it was the only thing he was ever any good at. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he also enjoyed being a husband and father, even if he thought he was rubbish at both.

He felt his cheeks begin to grow wet. Their marriage couldn't survive another Sports Day fiasco or a trip to Spain. I'll make it better, Louisa, he thought, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Though she had apologised for her harsh words over the phone, it still hurt to think that she didn't understand how much his work meant to him - how much he enjoyed it. He rolled on to his side, imagining her there next to him, like she always was.

For half the night, he just stared at the window and the moonlight that filtered through the closed drapes. How could he sleep when his marriage was once again becoming strained? And he didn't have his mobile with him, so he had no idea how Elliot was doing. The man was probably still in surgery, Martin thought. No matter how much Elliot seemed to complicate his relationship with Louisa, there was a part of him that hoped the tumour could be removed. He just wasn't looking forward to relaying the news to Louisa. She was bound to get emotional and he knew he was rubbish when it came to dealing with emotions.

Martin rolled on to his other side and stared at the alarm clock. He watched the digital numbers change, silently counting down the minutes until the sun would rise and he could escape this pathogen-infested hotel. Soon enough, his eyelids grew heavy and eventually he drifted off to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Louisa was up early Tuesday morning, getting James changed and dressed. She didn't sleep well. Martin was never far from her thoughts. Though the bad weather couldn't be helped, she had missed his presence next to her in their bed.

James began to giggle and squirm, snapping Louisa from her thoughts. Somehow, she managed to wrestle her son into his striped shirt and jeans. Tickling his tummy, she asked, "What should we have for breakfast this morning, James?"

"Ban!" he shouted, waving his arms and giving his mother a wide smile.

"Banana? Okay, young man, let's go." Picking him up from the bed, she set him on the floor. Taking hold of his hand, Louisa helped James down the stairs and to the kitchen.

After settling James into his high chair, she peeled a banana then started slicing it. While watching James unsuccessfully eat his breakfast, preferring to squeeze the fruit between his fingers, Louisa thought back to yesterday at the nursery school.

The moment the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. It just frustrated her that they couldn't spend time together as a family without some medical emergency interrupting them. Though Portwenn was small, it still puzzled her how many ailments and injuries the villagers picked up. It was just bad timing, she tried to tell herself, and frustration.

Turning her attention back to her little boy, she reached for a hand towel and began wiping his face and hands. "James Henry," she said, "we really need to find another outlet for these artistic urges of yours." She smiled at him while wiping away the smears of his banana "painting" from the tray of his high chair.

James giggled at her, reaching for another slice of banana. Louisa moved the plate out of his reach, hearing the kitchen door rattle open. Looking up, she watched as Martin shuffled through. His shirt looked wrinkled under his jacket, and his dark blue tie hung limp and askew around his neck. Noticing the plaster on his cheek, Louisa immediately stood up and went to him.

"Morning," he said as if nothing was wrong.

"Martin, what happened to you?" she said, reaching up to gently touch his bruised skin.

He winced as her fingers smoothed over the plaster on his cheek. "It's fine. I'm fine, Louisa."

"But what happened?"

Gazing into her eyes, he could see how much she was worried about him. He cleared his throat. "Um, trouble with a patient."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. He had that look on his face where she knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. "The same patient you went to see yesterday?"

Martin looked towards James, who was smiling at him and bouncing in his high chair. He knew he couldn't lie to her. She was bound to find out about Elliot whether he told her or not. He decided it was best that she hear it from him rather than some gossiping villager.

"Yes," Martin said. He gestured for Louisa to sit down. "Louisa, it's Mr. . . . Um, that teacher you work with -"

"Elliot?" Louisa watched as Martin sat down across from her. He kept his eyes downcast. "Did something happen to him?"

Martin cleared his throat and finally gazed back up at her. "Yes. Though I can't disclose much because of patient confidentiality, but yes, something happened."

Louisa started worrying her lower lip, searching his face for any sign of reassurance. "What? Martin, you have to tell me." She reached across the table and took his hands in hers.

He shook his head, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's not my place to say. I'm sorry. If Elliot wishes to tell you himself that's his decision."

Louisa's face fell. "But I'm the headmistress, Martin. I think I have a right to know if one of my teachers is ill or injured."

"I know. But, Louisa, what happened is very serious, erm, life changing. He might not want you to know. It's his news to share, not mine."

Louisa nodded, knowing that was as much information as she was going to get out of him. "I understand." She glanced down at their joined hands for a moment before looking back at him. "But he's okay, isn't he?"

Martin remained quiet for a moment. Elliot had probably gotten out of surgery sometime late last night. He had yet to check his mobile or the messages on the surgery answerphone. He needed to be careful with his answer. "Yes, he's stable."

Louisa let out a breath. "That's good. I'll just have to fill in for him while I find a temporary replacement." For a moment, she debated over asking her next question. But deciding she would only worry until she knew, she said, "Do you think I could visit him? To see how he's doing?"

"Um, I'm waiting on a call from the hospital. I'll probably have to stop by within the next day or so, but if you really want to, you can come with me during visiting hours."

Louisa nodded. "Yes, thank you, Martin. That would be nice." She felt proud of her husband. She knew he wasn't too keen about Elliot, but putting his jealousy aside, he was allowing her to visit him. "Was the hotel okay last night?" she asked him as he began to stand from his chair.

"It was fine." Martin scrunched his nose and smoothed a hand over his unshaven jaw. "I'm going to shower again. Who knows how long those hotel towels sit there unwashed."

Louisa smiled at him, knowing his penchant for good hygiene. "Okay. Is there anything special I can make you for breakfast once you're cleaned up?"

"Um, I'm not sure that I have time for breakfast. The surgery opens soon . . ."

"Oh, ok. But you really should eat something, Martin."

"Yes, I know."

"I let Morwenna know this morning that you'd be late. She told me your first patient isn't due for another hour . . ."

Martin nodded. "Right. I should, um . . ." He gestured towards the stairs.

"Yes. Take your time, we'll be fine down here." She paused and started fiddling with the bottom button of her cardigan. "Martin?"

"Yes?"

"I want to apologise for what I said to you yesterday . . ."

"Louisa . . ." He gave her a pleading look. "Can we talk about it later? I'm running late and I still have to change and get ready."

Louisa nodded. At least he was willing to discuss the issue in more detail. She watched him turn away from her and head for the stairs. Looking down at James, she hoisted him out of his high chair and moved to the living room. She set him down on the floor to let him play while she started breakfast.

A short while later, as Louisa was setting plates and silverware on the table, Martin meandered into the kitchen from the hallway under the stairs, smartly dressed in his navy suit and red tie.

"It'll just be a few more minutes," Louisa said as she turned to look at him.

"Mm," he grunted, walking past her to the living room. He crouched down next to James, who was playing with his train set. A half smile formed at the corner of his lips as he remembered that trains were one of his favourite toys when he was a child. He started helping James construct a circular track with the wooden cutouts. Martin brushed his fingers through his son's light hair as he pushed his model locomotive around the tracks, thinking that James could use a haircut, as well as himself, he added as an afterthought.

"Trains are very important, James," Martin began to explain. James looked up at him, smiling widely, and he knew that his son wanted to hear more. "They're a source of transportation - for people, or goods and resources. Maybe someday we'll take a ride on one. You know, I used to take the train to school when I was a boy . . ."

Louisa listened to them as she began dishing food on to their plates. It made her heart swell to see such normal interaction between her husband and son. She just still couldn't believe how fast James was growing. Pretty soon he'd be able to speak full sentences, which reminded her that they still had to decide whether to enroll James in nursery school. Best save that discussion for after they sort out her little outburst the other day. For now, she just wanted to savour the tender moment between father and son.

"Breakfast is ready, Martin," she announced, filling two cups of tea then taking a seat at the table.

Martin stood up to his full height and James followed suit. He latched on to his father's leg, not wanting him to leave. Looking down at his son, Martin picked him up and stepped into the kitchen. He sat down across from Louisa with James situated in his lap. She smiled at both of them over the rim of her cup of tea. The two of them were inseparable.

. . .

"The hospital in Truro left you a message last night," Morwenna said as she looked at the notes she had scribbled down. "What happened to your face?" She pointed at the newly changed plaster on his cheek.

Martin wasn't in the mood to explain the actions of a neurologically-impaired patient. "Yes," was his brief reply, as he snatched the sticky note from her fingers and moved towards the consulting room.

After calling the hospital and talking with Dr. Richards, Martin was pleased with the news. Elliot's surgery went well and the tumour had been successfully removed. "I'll stop by later this afternoon," Martin informed the neurosurgeon before ending the call.

Though he started his day later than usual, the number of patients scheduled seemed to increase. And every one of them had some pithy comment to say about the skirmish between himself and Mr. Keane.

"For the last time," Martin explained to the group of villagers in the waiting room, obviously irritated. "I cannot discuss other patients with patients! This is a doctor's surgery. If you wish to gossip, I suggest you find some other establishment in which to ridicule me. Genuine medical complaints only! I will not have my time wasted by useless malingerers! Thank you."

The eyes of the silenced, waiting patients followed him as Martin headed for Morwenna's desk. "Mr. Hammond phoned again," she said, taking the stack of notes he wanted her to file.

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. "God," he muttered to himself. He'd only met the old man a handful of times, and already felt the irritation that hypochondriac Malcolm Raynor caused him. "Is he able-bodied?"

"Yes. And I told him that you don't make house calls to able-bodied patients, but he said his legs were in pain; that he could hardly move."

Letting out another breath, he said, "Alright, fine. Get me his notes and call him back. Tell him I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Morwenna nodded. "Got it right here, Doc." She pushed the sleeve of notes to the edge of her desk then turned and picked up the phone.

"Mm." Martin narrowed his eyes at his receptionist, wondering if she knew he'd cave in and agree to see Mr. Hammond on a house call. He turned back to his consulting room, trying to decipher the terrible handwriting of the late Dr. Jim Sim.

As promised, fifteen minutes later, Martin knocked on the door of Mr. Hammond's cottage.

"It's open!" came a weak shout.

Martin let himself inside, and once more tried to ignore the messy kitchen as he skirted through the room and to the study.

Mr. Hammond was seated in his desk chair, a glass of whiskey in his left hand, as he waited for Martin.

"Are you drinking?" Martin asked as he came to a stop in front of the old man.

"Yeah. It seems to help with the pain."

"Well, you're wrong, so stop drinking that." Kneeling in front of the old man, Martin asked, "Now, do you have pain in both legs or just one?"

"Both." Mr. Hammond winced as Martin began palpating his legs. "I can feel the pain starting to spread."

"What do you mean, starting to spread?"

Mr. Hammond cleared his throat loudly. "Well, before it was just the left leg, in the calf muscle. Now both legs are hurtin' and the pain's everywhere this time."

"I see. Your lower legs are a bit swollen but I'm not too concerned about that yet." Martin stood up from his knelt position on the floor. "Are you moving around enough during the day?" he asked. "Taking in plenty of fluids?"

Mr. Hammond nodded. "I walk up to the cemetery at least once a week."

Martin drew his brows together. "Then I suggest a bit more exercise. And if you feel discomfort afterwards, rest and ice your legs."

Mr. Hammond didn't seem to be listening to him. His gaze had shifted to a framed photograph on his desk of a woman with short, curling grey hair and a demure yet alluring smile.

Martin clapped his hands impatiently, trying to get his patient's attention. "Mr. Hoyle!"

"Hmm?" Mr. Hammond looked up at Martin. "I'm sorry. I was just reminded of my wife Rosalind - Rosie, as she liked to be called. She passed away a few years ago." Martin did his best not to roll his eyes. It was always like this with his elderly patients. They felt alone without their spouse, ending up neglecting their health until it was too late, and hoping that Martin could make it better for them. "You married, Dr. Ellingham?" Mr. Hammond asked.

Martin made it a habit never to discuss his personal life with a patient, and was a bit surprised that the man wasn't already aware of his marriage to Louisa. That was pretty common knowledge throughout the village. "Yes," he finally replied in his curt tone.

Mr. Hammond nodded. "She pretty?"

Martin was starting to grow wary of where this conversation was heading. He tried to think of a way to escape, but didn't feel comfortable leaving his patient in a semi-drunken haze with injured limbs. "Yes, she's very pretty, erm, beautiful."

Mr. Hammond smiled. "Forty-eight years we were together. Would have liked to have made it to fifty, but . . ."

Martin grimaced, feeling very uncomfortable. "I should, um, finish my examination," he said, trying to halt their conversation.

Mr. Hammond nodded. "Sure, sure." He took another swig from his crystal tumbler.

Martin's grimace turned to a frown as the old man consumed his alcohol. He looked over the man's legs once more. Standing back up, he said, "Well, Mr. Holland -"

"William Hammond," the man said, finally snapping out of his trance. "But you can call me Bill."

"Right." Martin cleared his throat. "Like I said earlier, there's not much I can do. Keep up the light exercise and drink plenty of fluids . . ." He eyed the almost empty glass of whiskey and the bottle at the corner of the desk. "Just not alcohol. For the swelling - ice and elevation - at least twenty minutes two to three times a day. And for the pain, a thousand milligrams of paracetamol - no more than four times a day though. I can refer you for a bone density scan and some nerve and muscle tests if you wish."

"Yes, thanks, Doc."

"Mm," Martin grunted. "I'll have my receptionist schedule you an appointment at the hospital in Truro."

Mr. Hammond once again turned his attention back to the photo of his late wife. "After two years, I didn't think I'd still miss her. But I do - every damn day."

As he listened to Mr. Hammond, Martin thought of Louisa and when she left Portwenn to move to London after calling off their wedding. He'd been miserable those six months she was gone. He remembered on numerous occasions stepping outside with his espresso, expecting to find her walking up the hill towards him, or staring across the harbour at the school, yearning for just one more glimpse of her. And her trip to Spain was even worse. He didn't like pulling out that particular memory.

"I, um, have other patients waiting," Martin said as he cleared his throat, desperately wanting to leave the cottage.

"Of course."

For a minute, Martin watched the old man as he turned away from him to finish his glass of whiskey. Ever the health professional, Martin went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. "Here," he said, setting down the cup of water in front of Mr. Hammond.

"Thank you," the old man said quietly.

"You're welcome. Um, goodbye, Mr. Hofton."

"Hammond," the old man said, determined to get the doctor to remember his name.

"Yes. Goodbye, Mr. Hammond." With his medical bag in hand, Martin silently left the the little cottage.

. . .

When Louisa returned home from school later that day, she found James and Janice in the kitchen, absorbed in some sort of arts and crafts activity.

"Hello," Louisa said as she hung up her coat and scarf next to the door. "What do we have here?" She moved to the kitchen table to get a better look.

"We've been making art, haven't we, James?" Janice replied as she sprinkled some blue glitter across the paper in front of her.

Louisa tried to hold her smile, observing the mess her son and his childminder had created. Good thing Martin's busy with patients all day, she thought. She could just picture his unhappy face if he came across the sight of their normally tidy kitchen. "Looks like you're both having fun." Louisa smiled down at James, who was kneeling on a kitchen chair and smearing glitter and glue across his own drawing as well as the table.

"Let's get you back in your high chair before you fall, hmm?" Louisa carefully picked up her little boy, trying to avoid his glittery fingers, and set him in his high chair. James began to whimper at being moved as he clenched his little fists in anger. "Here you go." Louisa placed her son's drawing in front of him, along with some crayons and coloured pencils. He seemed satisfied with that.

Noticing some markers and pens strewn across the table, Louisa frowned. "Janice, do you think it's a good idea to let James use these?" She picked up a neon green marker for emphasis.

Janice looked up at Louisa wide eyed. "Um, we were very careful with them."

"Hmm. It's just markers are messy, especially with young children."

An apologetic look fell across the girl's face. "I'm really sorry, Louisa. James was having so much fun with his drawings I wasn't thinking about it."

Louisa glanced back at James. He was smiling and smacking his little hands on the pools of glitter, eliciting a laugh when he noticed the tiny, glittering specks stuck to his palms. She ran her fingers through his hair, noticing some blue glitter there as well. Martin wouldn't be happy.

"You've got quite an artist there," Janice remarked, trying to lighten the tension between herself and Louisa.

"You really think so?" Louisa tilted her head as she gazed down at James' picture. She had no idea what it was a picture of. All she saw were some red and orange scraggly-looking circles and mounds of blue glitter and streams of glue scattered across the paper.

"Yep. I see great potential." Janice smiled at the young Ellingham, reaching out to tickle his cheek.

For the first time, Louisa noticed the diamond ring adorning Janice's left hand. "Janice, is that . . . ?" She pointed at the girl's hand.

"Oh, yeah." A blush spread out across Janice's cheeks as she pulled her hand back to inspect her engagement ring. "Joe proposed to me last night. Isn't it beautiful?"

Louisa leaned over the table to get a better look, making sure she wasn't seeing things. "Oh, Janice, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, moving around the table to hug her. "I'm so happy for you and Joe!"

Janice continued to smile as they gazed at her ring. The platinum setting was simple with a small diamond adorning the center. "Thank you."

"Have you set a date yet?" Louisa asked.

Janice shook her head. "No, not yet - soon though. We just want to let the feeling of being engaged sink in a bit."

"I understand. Aw, it's just lovely!" Louisa gushed. She couldn't help but reminisce back to her and Martin's brief engagement. He had given her his grandmother's ring, and to her surprise, it had fit perfectly. But she gave it back when they decided that at the time they wouldn't make each other happy. She began to wonder what became of that ring. Did Martin still have it? Would he give it to her again if she asked?

"Weren't you and the doc engaged? You know, the first time?"

Louisa didn't feel comfortable discussing it with James' childminder. "Yes, but it's a long story and it's in the past . . ."

Janice nodded in understanding. "I guess it doesn't matter though, right? You're together now."

"Yeah. Um, why don't you get started on cleaning up the kitchen while I take this little one upstairs for a thorough bath before his daddy finds out."

"Da-ee!" James squealed while clapping his glittery hands together.

"Yeah, c'mon, young man. We better hurry or we'll both be in trouble." Louisa did her best to wipe the sticky glue from James' fingers before picking him up. She smiled and looked at Janice. "This was a really great activity for him, but next time let's skip the glitter, okay?"

Janice nodded, glad that Louisa wasn't upset with her. "Of course. Bye, James. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, waving at the young Ellingham as he was carried off towards the stairs.

Shortly after Janice left, Martin came into the kitchen to check the contents of their refrigerator and pantry, making sure there was enough for dinner later. As he crossed the room, his eye caught something sparkling on the kitchen table. He bent down to get a better look and swiped a finger over the spot, realising it was glitter. He frowned as he looked down at his watch. "Louisa!" he bellowed, thinking that she was upstairs. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later she appeared in the living room with James perched on her hip.

"What is it, Martin?"

He pointed at the kitchen table. "What was going on here today?"

Louisa furrowed her brow as she stepped up into the kitchen. "What do you mean?"

"I found glitter on the table. What was James doing today?"

"He and Janice were making arts and crafts," she said, brushing her fingers through James' freshly shampooed hair.

"But are you aware that glitter sticks to everything and is very difficult to clean up?"

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, Martin, I'm aware. James was having fun. He's very artistic you know."

"Mm," he grunted, looking at James. He let a hiss of air escape his nose. "Then next time, will you tell, um, Jessie, no glitter? I don't want James trying to eat it."

"I did tell her - before she left. So there's nothing to worry about."

Martin ducked his head. "I see." He tugged at his ear. "Um, I'm heading to the hospital in Truro soon, so if you want to come with me and visit your . . . colleague, you can."

Louisa smiled. "Yes, I'd like that. But what about James? Janice already left for the day."

"We can drop him off with Ruth."

"Are you sure she won't mind?"

Martin shook his head. "No. I'll give her a call and let her know." He turned away and headed under the stairs to the consulting room.

James began to squirm in Louisa's arms, so she set him down on on the floor. "Are you excited to see your Aunt Ruth, James?" Her little boy began to jump impatiently from foot to foot. "Let's finish getting you ready, then." She took James' hand and together, they headed back upstairs.

. . .

As Martin pulled into a spot in the hospital's car park, he took the key from the ignition and turned to face his wife. "Um, Louisa, before we go in . . ." He paused to take a breath. "I just want to say that I should have told you who I was going to see yesterday at the hospital when we were at the nursery school."

"Martin, it's alright. I understand." She put a hand on his left thigh.

Martin blew a stream of air from his nose. "But I don't think you do understand."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "How do you mean?"

He reached up to scratch his brow. "If you did you wouldn't have gotten so cross with me. And that's why I should have told you the emergency was that teacher. But I didn't want you to worry."

Louisa moved her hand from his leg to his cheek. "And that's why I love you, Martin. You're always thinking of what's best for me. I didn't mean to be so angry with you yesterday. I was just frustrated at being interrupted."

Martin nodded. "It hurt - what you said. Being a doctor is what I've always wanted to be. It's who I am. I can't imagine not being one."

Louisa softened her expression as she caressed his smooth cheek with her thumb. "And you are the most extraordinary doctor I've ever known."

"But if I was still a surgeon we would never have this." He took her hand and laced their fingers together. "I would have little time for you and James."

Louisa cracked a brief smile. "Then I guess it's a good thing you developed haemophobia, then."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Yes, I suppose."

"But you miss it, don't you?" she asked, seeing his eyes start to wander.

Martin let out a sigh. "Sometimes. But I'd give it up in a heartbeat if it meant I could spend everyday with you and James."

"Oh, Martin . . ." Louisa could feel her eyes start to water. The man next to her had changed from the man she knew near the end of her pregnancy. He would rather be with his family than worry about his career. She was finally starting to understand what a wonderful and caring man her husband really was, and most importantly, how much she and their son meant to him. "I'm so sorry for what I said to you yesterday," she said softly.

"I know. But I need you to understand that you and James will always come first to me." Louisa nodded, so Martin continued, "Medicine is who I am, but the two of you make me a better person. You make me feel loved and wanted, Louisa."

Louisa shook her head vigorously, trying in vain to hold back her tears. "Martin Ellingham . . ."

"What?"

"Come here." Leaning over in her seat, she clasped her hands at the back of his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him deeply. Resting her forehead against his, she breathed out, "Martin, you are always loved and wanted, no matter what."

Martin closed his eyes at her words. He didn't know what came over him today, but he was glad that he said what he said. They needed to fix what happened yesterday, and today put them back on the right track again.

"We better go in before visiting hours are over," Martin said, pulling away from Louisa.

"Yes." She grabbed her purse and exited the Lexus, following Martin to the entrance of the hospital. She wanted to take his hand, but thought better of it. The hospital was where he was in his element. She didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, especially after the encouraging discussion they just had in the car. They had tonight and the rest of their lives to show how much they cared for each other.

"Louisa," Martin addressed her as they walked to Elliot's private room. "You'll have to wait in the visitor's area while I talk with the neurologist. Patient confidentiality and everything."

Louisa nodded. "I understand, Martin." She gave him a smile and he tugged at his ear.

"I shouldn't be too long."

She nodded again then reached out to squeeze his hand before he turned away and entered a door down the hallway.

When Martin entered Elliot's room, Dr. Richards was already waiting in the chair next to the bed. Elliot was awake, reading a sports magazine. His head was wrapped in a large white, gauze bandage. Martin cleared his throat. "How are you feeling today, Mr. Keane?" he asked, picking up the chart and scanning through the surgical notes.

Elliot looked up from his reading. "Fine. Tired. Bit of a headache."

Martin nodded, but frowned. "You should be resting, not reading. You just had a major surgery."

Dr. Richards jumped up from his chair. "It's alright, Dr. Ellingham. I have Mr. Keane on a strict reading schedule to rest his brain."

"I see. Has a post-op care regimen been given to you?"

"We've gone over the basics," Dr. Richards said. "Regular MRI scans every other week to monitor any new tumour growth, plenty of rest . . ."

"Will I be able to go back to work soon?" Elliot asked the two doctors.

"No," Martin said, drawing out the word for emphasis. "You just had major brain surgery . . ."

"Dr. Ellingham," the neurosurgeon interjected, "I think I'm the neurologist here." He received a glare from the GP. "We'll keep you here for a few more days, Mr. Keane," he said to Elliot. "To monitor your brain function and make sure there aren't any post-operative complications. And we'll be monitoring your progress as you get back to your old self again."

Elliot nodded. "Thank you - both of you actually. It feels different, you know, not having that tumour inside me anymore. I have control of myself again." He smiled, reaching out to shake Dr. Richards' hand.

"You're most welcome, Mr. Keane. I'll stop by later to see how you're doing." The neurosurgeon patted Elliot on the shoulder then turned to leave.

Martin and Elliot exchanged awkward glances as they were left by themselves. "Martin, I mean, Dr. Ellingham, I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there when I had my fit," Elliot said, finally breaking the silence between them.

You could have suffocated or choked on your own saliva, Martin wanted to say, but refrained from doing so. "Yes," was all he said instead. "Um, you have a visitor waiting to see you."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "A visitor?"

"Mm. If you'll excuse me . . ."

"Wait!" Elliot called out before Martin could leave. "I just want to apologise for hitting you, Dr. Ellingham. I didn't mean it. You were trying to help me and I lost my temper."

Martin nodded. "I understand. You weren't yourself." As he gazed at Elliot, now tumour free, Martin felt that maybe, in time, he may grow to like the teacher, or at least tolerate him. Though he still felt a little jealous with Elliot being close friends with Louisa, he might as well accept it. He had faith in his relationship with Louisa. He wouldn't let anyone or anything ruin it again.

"Um, Louisa is waiting to see you," Martin said.

Elliot looked surprised. "Louisa?"

"Mm. Excuse me." He turned on his heel and left the room.

Louisa was staring at her mobile, deciding if she should call Ruth to check and see how she and James were doing. She began worrying her lower lip when her husband's voice snapped her from her thoughts. "Martin?"

"Um, you can see him now." He glanced down at his watch. "Visiting hours end at five-thirty, so you have a bit of time still."

Louisa nodded and followed him to Elliot's room. "Aren't you coming in with me?" she asked when he stepped back a few feet.

Martin shook his head. "No. I'll give you some privacy. He's your, um . . . friend." Louisa reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. "I'll be out here if you need me though."

She nodded, dropping her hand from his cheek, then entered the room. "Hello?" Louisa said quietly, peering around the door.

"Hi," Elliot replied, smiling widely.

Seeing the large bandage wrapped around his forehead, Louisa gasped. "Elliot, what happened to you?"

He gestured for her to sit in the chair next to his bed. "Thank you for coming."

Louisa nodded. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine, just a bit tired." He paused, not sure if he wanted to tell her. "The doctors tell me I won't be able to go back to work for a while."

"That's okay. I've already started looking for a temporary replacement. Don't worry." She tried to smile for him.

"I knew you would."

Louisa let out a sigh. Best to just get this over with, she thought. "Elliot, I think we need to set some things straight between us."

"Louisa -"

She didn't let him continue. "I think you're a wonderful teacher, Elliot, I really do. But if we're to work together there can't be any unprofessionalism. I have a husband and a young son whom I love very much. But I'd like for us to be really good friends."

Elliot nodded. "I'd like that too. And I'm sorry for acting like such an ass around you. I was sick. There was a tumour in my brain, altering my behaviour is what I was told. But they removed it."

Louisa softened her expression. "A tumour? Elliot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry. The doctor's say I'm gonna be fine. If your husband hadn't been with me yesterday when things got out of control . . ." He shook his head weakly. "He really is brilliant, isn't he?"

Louisa nodded, feeling her eyes begin to water again. "Yes, he is."

"You make him a better person, you know, even if he is the most condescending and rude doctor I've ever met. But he makes you happy, and that's what's important."

Louisa wiped her eyes with a finger. "I should let you get some rest. The kids at the school will miss you."

"I'll miss them too."

Standing up, she put a comforting hand on his forearm. "You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

"Yes, Miss." He smiled.

"Bye, Mr. Keane." Adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, Louisa gave him one last smile before leaving his room.

Martin was standing in the hallway when Louisa left Elliot's room. He looked up at her from his gaze on the tiled floor. "Thank you for letting me see him," she said, linking her arm through his.

"Mm, you're welcome."

They were silent as they walked through the hospital. Louisa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they strolled out of the hospital and to the car. Elliot was right. She did make him a better person. And she was happy. My extraordinary man, she thought, as she gripped Martin's arm tighter. She couldn't wait to get home and spend the rest of the evening with her husband and son.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

It was just beginning to grow dark as they neared Ruth's cottage. Martin was feeling a bit on edge as his wife kept giving him sideways glances the whole drive back to Portwenn. She couldn't be upset, he thought. They'd worked out their differences quite successfully. And she had looked happy when they left the hospital. He groaned internally. Why was it so difficult to understand her? he wondered. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Martin tried forcing his anxious thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Evening, Ruth," Louisa said as they were let inside the cottage a short time later.

"I take it everything went well at the hospital?" Ruth asked as she sat down at her desk, noticing Louisa's cheerful mood.

Louisa took hold of Martin's hand. "Yes." She turned to look at her husband for a moment. "It was very reassuring."

"Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?" Ruth offered.

"That's very kind of you, Ruth," Louisa replied with a smile. "But I think we'd rather just get James home, make dinner, and tuck into bed." She looked down at the sofa, where their little boy was asleep against a pile of pillows and cushions, his baby blanket wrapped around his small form.

"Of course."

"He didn't give you any trouble, did he?" Louisa asked, bending down to swipe her fingers through James' hair.

Ruth shook her head. "No. He was very well behaved. Though we did have a difference of opinion over which of his children's books to read."

"He is a bit specific over which story he prefers. He usually likes it when Martin reads to him though." Standing back up, Louisa turned to face her quiet husband.

Martin brought his right hand up and tugged at his ear, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Um, yes."

"Well, I best let you two crack on, then," Ruth said, sensing that their brief visit was coming to an end. She stood up and retrieved the nappy bag, handing it back to Louisa.

"Martin, could you take James, please?" Louisa asked him as she slung the nappy bag over her shoulder.

"Yes." Martin moved to the sofa and bent down to pick up James, trying his best not to disturb his son. He cradled James up against his shoulder and the boy subconsciously buried his face in his father's neck.

"You should come over for dinner sometime, Ruth," Louisa suggested. "I feel like it's been a while since Christmas."

"Thank you for the offer, dear." Ruth patted her shoulder. "But I have my hands full with the B&B and trying to keep tabs on Al and Bert."

"I understand. Well, whenever you're free we'd be happy to have you over."

Ruth smiled. "Again, thank you. I'll think about it."

"Bye, Ruth. Have a good night."

"You as well."

Louisa looked at her husband, gesturing with her head towards Ruth. "Right. Um, goodnight," he said.

Ruth gave her nephew a half smile. Opening the door, she watched as the Ellingham family left her cottage and carefully made their way down the uneven footpath and to the car.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and as Louisa was playing with James in the living room, Martin did the washing up. As he concentrated on the task at hand, he couldn't help but listen in on his wife and son. Louisa was chatting away in that mothering tone of hers. He heard the shriek of a toy police siren, followed by an exuberant laugh from James.

"That's what PC Penhale's police car sounds like, James," Louisa explained to their son.

Martin heard the shriek of the toy siren again. He turned around from his position at the sink. "Louisa," he said while drying a plate, "can't he play with something a bit more quiet?"

Louisa looked up at him. "But he's enjoying himself, Martin."

"I know. But it's getting close to his bedtime and I'd rather that he fall asleep without any difficulty."

Louisa let out a tired sigh. "Alright, James, you heard Daddy. Let's start getting you ready for bed." She took his toy police car and placed it in the plastic box with his other toys. James wasn't happy about that. He let out an angry cry and reached over for his crate of toys. Louisa intercepted him, sweeping him up into her arms instead. James began to cry softly at being carried away from his toy box.

"Shh," Louisa gently soothed him while making her way towards the stairs. "You can play with your toys tomorrow."

Once Martin finished with the washing up and made sure that all the doors were locked, he turned out the light in the kitchen and made his way upstairs to say goodnight to James. Peering around the door to the nursery, he found Louisa standing in front of James' cot. Without a word, he came up beside her.

"Is he asleep already?" Martin asked after a moment.

Louisa turned to face him. "Yes. He went out like a light."

The corners of Martin's mouth twitched. "Good."

They remained quiet for a few minutes as they watched their son sleep peacefully. Then, Louisa broke the silence. "We still have to decide on the nursery school for James."

"Mm."

"I have the information packet on the school somewhere in our room. You could take a look at it if you want."

He grunted again. "I'll, um, look over it tomorrow."

Louisa watched him for a moment. She smiled as she noticed that tender look he had whenever he was near James. Martin completed his usual goodnight ritual by placing two fingers on their son's forehead then following the curve of his cheek. "I'm going to get ready for bed," she said, placing a hand on his upper back.

Martin nodded. "I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Okay." As she moved across the room, Louisa paused in the doorway of the nursery to look at him. He stood tall and rigid as he watched over their son. Not for one moment did she ever doubt Martin's love for James, even when he had still planned to return to London when James was a newborn. She just knew that in time James would look up to his father, and that Martin would always be there to guide and protect their little boy. She just hoped that Martin realised it. Turning away, she quietly padded across the hall to their bedroom.

When Martin entered their bedroom a few minutes later, he went straight for the bathroom. He carefully peeled off the plaster on his cheek to inspect the cut that was underneath. It was healing nicely. The skin, or more specifically his cheekbone, was still bruised though. He gently ran a finger over the afflicted area. Opening the medicine cabinet, he reached for the bottle of antiseptic and a cotton swab. He cleaned the cut once more and after brushing his teeth, he turned out the light and left the bathroom.

Louisa was laying quietly in bed as she watched her husband change out of his suit and into his pyjamas. He caught her staring at him, so she turned on her side to give him a bit of privacy.

A moment later, his bedside lamp clicked off and she felt the mattress dip as Martin sank into bed beside her. He rustled around for a minute trying to get comfortable. Then she heard him let out a long sigh. Turning on her other side to face him, Louisa reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Everything okay?" she asked him.

Martin turned his head to look at her. "Hmm?"

"Is something troubling you? You seem distracted."

"Mm, I don't know."

Louisa shifted herself closer to him. From the subdued light of the lamp on her nightstand, he looked lost and empty. As she gazed at him, her eyes settled on the faint cut on his cheek. Moving her hand from his arm, she carefully laid her fingers over his bruised skin. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not really, no."

"How did it happen, Martin? Can you tell me?"

He sighed once more and turned on to his side so he was facing her. "It was that teacher friend of yours. It was an accident. He lost his temper with me and I just happened to be in the way of his fist."

Louisa softened her expression. "Oh, Martin . . ." She continued to caress his left cheek with her thumb.

Martin curled his fingers around her wrist, keeping her hand on his cheek, wanting to savour the contact. "It's fine."

"Elliot told me you saved his life."

"Mm, technically the, um, neurosurgeon saved his life."

Louisa cracked a brief smile. "I know. But I mean, when you were late for our appointment at the school, you were with him when it all started." He nodded, so she continued, "Thank you, Martin, for being there."

"It could have happened anywhere. I was just doing my job."

"I know. And I'm very grateful you're so good at it."

Martin felt that familiar pull in his chest whenever he heard such loving and encouraging words from his wife. He moved closer to her so that their noses were almost touching. "Why do you love me, Louisa?" he asked all of a sudden.

For a moment, Louisa was taken aback by his blunt question. She had no idea how to answer him. She just did. It was as simple as that. "Because I just do," she said, running a finger over the fine hairs above his ear. "There are many things that I love about you, Martin." He was silent so she figured she'd need to elaborate, "You're a very good doctor for one thing. And I love that you don't let your fear of blood stop you from being the best doctor this side of Cornwall ever had." She smiled at him. "But more importantly, I love the man you've become, despite you're terrible upbringing." She could see his eyes wander away from hers, so she quickly tried to reassure him, "You are a gentle and caring man, Martin. And despite what you think, you _are_ a loving husband and father."

Martin shifted his eyes back to Louisa. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Really?"

Louisa felt his grip on her wrist tighten. "Yes. I love seeing you care for our son. You know, someday, he's going to look up to you."

Martin felt his eyes begin to water. Feeling embarrassed, he tried to look away from her but Louisa kept him still. "But what if I'm a disappointment to him?"

Louisa swiped her thumb over the few tears that managed to escape down his cheeks. "You won't be a disappointment to him, Martin. He adores you."

"He's a year and a half old, Louisa. What'll happen when he turns fifteen and he begins to realise how much of a let down I am to him? How much of a failure I am."

Louisa shook her head. "Martin, let's not think like that. James will love you no matter what. You're his father, Martin. You know what's best for him."

Martin nodded as he sucked in a breath.

"Now that I've told you, will you tell me why you love me?"

Martin moved his hand from her wrist to thread his fingers through hers. "There are so many reasons."

"I think we have plenty of time." She gave him another smile.

"It was the first time I saw you in that airplane." He paused, gauging her reaction. "You looked so beautiful."

"I thought your staring was because of my glaucoma?"

"Yes, that too. But as I gazed at you, I thought I had never seen anyone as lovely as you. And you're such a wonderful mother. I always knew you would be."

Louisa could feel her heart begin to flutter at his words. "Thank you," she said softly, squeezing his hand.

"You give my life purpose, Louisa. You're always trying to help me, and I know I can be difficult in that regard, but I do appreciate it." He smiled slightly. "I know I don't say it very often, but you make me happy - both of you do."

Louisa didn't know what to say. He very rarely let himself open up like this in front of her. Tilting her head to the side, she leaned over and kissed him, snaking a hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place.

Martin relaxed into their kiss, letting Louisa deepen their embrace. He pulled her closer to him so their chests were touching. When they finally pulled away from each other, Martin was breathing heavily. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as his desire for her began to build.

"Martin," Louisa breathed out, "you know how I get when you say things like that."

He could feel the pounding in her chest against his own. "I know."

Louisa rolled on to her back, pulling him on top of her, and Martin braced himself on his forearms. "You did a good thing today," she said, running a hand down the curve of his jawline.

Martin furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"By letting me visit Elliot at the hospital."

"Oh. Right."

"I know you've been jealous, and I'm so proud of you for pushing it aside and not letting it get to you."

"Mm. You mean everything to me, Louisa. I don't ever want to lose you again."

Louisa threw her arms around his neck. "Martin . . ."

"Hmm?" he mumbled against her neck.

She pushed on his shoulders so he would look at her. "I love you so much," she said softly, placing her palms on his cheeks, being careful of the cut that was still visible.

"I love you too, Louisa - more than I can say."

Out of happiness, Louisa wanted to cry, but held back. She didn't want him to withdraw from her. Instead, she pulled him back down and kissed him hard.

Martin let out a soft groan as he felt her fingers wrestle with the buttons of his pyjama top. "Oh, Louisa," he mumbled when he pulled away. Gazing into her eyes, he could see how much she wanted him. Ever the gentleman, he asked, "Are you sure?"

Louisa nodded. "Yes, Martin, I'm sure."

He smiled, always amazed at how a beautiful woman like her could want him like this.

"I love that smile of yours," Louisa said, letting her thumb follow the curve of his lower lip.

His smile seemed to widen, if that was even possible. "You do?"

"Yes. I wish you'd smile more often. It suits you. Now enough talking, come here." Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Louisa leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Martin closed his eyes as their embrace deepened once more. There were no words to describe how he felt. His wife had pulled him under her spell, as she often did. They scrambled and fumbled with each other, trying to remove their hindering nightclothes. Their lovemaking that night wasn't as slow and tender as it usually was. But they both felt that deep connection with each other while they moved as one, the passion between them building until they could take it no longer.

Afterwards, Martin was on the verge of falling asleep, but the feeling of Louisa's fingers skimming through his damp hair kept him awake. His head was resting on her chest, with his left hand entwined with her right, as he listened to the thump of her heart beating strong and steady underneath his ear.

Louisa looked down at him as they lay quietly entwined. She continued to run her fingers through the damp strands of his greying hair, the motion seeming to put him to sleep in the same way it did with James. But he was still awake, staring into darkness at some unknown spot on the far wall.

Neither of them said a word in the afterglow of their lovemaking. There was no need. They held each other close, both knowing how much they loved one another.

. . .

The next morning, Martin woke early to the sound of Louisa's soft snores. It was still dark outside as the January sun wasn't quite ready to make its appearance yet. He lifted his head from his wife's chest and pulled the sheets up to her chin. Taking in the sight of her sleeping form, he thought he'd never seen anyone as beautiful as her. She was lying at an awkward angle on her back, her long, dark hair covering her bare shoulders. He wound a strand of her hair around his finger, trying to memorise the sight of her lying there. Then turning away from her, he picked up his watch from the nightstand to inspect the time. It was well before the alarm was due to go off. He figured there was no sense in going back to bed as he probably wouldn't get any extra sleep anyway. So, he pulled himself out of the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Louisa.

After showering and dressing in his dapper gray suit and striped blue tie, he made his way to the nursery to check on James. But as he passed by the dresser, his eye caught the information booklet of the nursery school lying on top, some of his wife's makeup essentials and a bottle of perfume partially obscuring the cover. He carefully slipped it out from under her things and tucked it inside his suit.

As Martin entered the nursery, James was still fast asleep in his cot, his favourite stuffed animal tucked close to his side. His little boy was definitely growing too fast. It didn't look as if he had much room to manoeuvre around in. "Morning, James," Martin said softly, running his fingers over his son's forehead. The contact awakened him, and James sleepily looked up at his father.

"How are you?" he asked, picking him up and settling him against his chest.

James babbled incoherently as he blinked up at his father, wondering why he was awakened at such an early hour. Without a word, Martin began the process of changing his son's nappy and getting him dressed for the day. He actually seemed to enjoy this morning routine the two of them seemed to adopt whenever he was up before Louisa. James was always patient with him whenever Martin had trouble getting him into a fresh set of clothes. But his son always had a smile on his face as he watched his father, entranced by Martin's nimble fingers as he slipped on a clean nappy, occasionally pausing to tickle James under the arm or on the bottom of his foot. And sometimes, but not very often, Martin would talk with James; nothing of particular importance, maybe a summary of the last article he read in his medical journal or how nice the weather was that morning. It was just relaxing that Martin had someone he could talk to without getting annoyed or berated.

When Martin set James down on the floor, in a fresh nappy and a clean set of clothes, the boy reached up for his hand. Martin took hold of his son's small but sturdy fingers and guided him out of the nursery and down the stairs to the kitchen.

When Louisa finally made it downstairs after waking up five minutes late, she found that her two boys were already eating breakfast together. "This looks nice," she said, making her presence known as she stepped into the kitchen. A plate of assorted fresh fruit and toast was laid out and waiting for her on the table.

Martin looked up at her from his reading. "Yes. I left you an egg on the cooker."

"Thank you." Louisa brushed a hand over the back of his head as she passed by on her way to James. "And how's my little boy this morning, hmm?" she cooed into her son's ear, tickling him under his arm.

James looked up at her with his shining blue eyes. "Mum! Eat!" he cried out, raising his arms and pointing at the food on the table.

Louisa placed a series of kisses behind her son's ear, eliciting a string of giggles from the young Ellingham. As she sat down with her egg, Louisa turned her attention to her husband. He was engrossed in his reading, and as she looked more closely, she realised it was the pamphlet for the nursery school they were considering. She gave him a smile. "So what do you think?" she asked, reaching for a bright red strawberry on the platter in the middle of the table.

Martin gazed up at her. "About what?"

She gestured towards his reading. "The nursery school for James. What do you think?"

He shook his head. "Oh. Um, it seems adequate enough."

Louisa's face fell. Adequate? That was the best he could come up with? "Okay. But do you think James will like it there?"

Martin closed the booklet and pushed it aside, feeling a bit annoyed by his wife's questioning. "I don't know, Louisa. I'm not really the person you should be asking."

"Mar-tin? This is our son's education we're talking about. I could use a little more feedback other than _adequate_."

"Well you said this would be on a trial basis."

Louisa tilted her head to the side. "So does that mean you're willing to give it a try?"

Martin shifted his gaze over to James, who was eyeing the plate of fruit with a determined look. He picked up a slice of banana and placed it on the tray of his son's high chair. "Yes, I'd be willing to give this nursery school a try," he replied. "But why now? It just seems a little too soon to be sending him off to school, don't you think?"

Louisa was quiet for a moment as she took a bite of her egg then sipped her tea. "I feel that James is ready for it. And it'll give him a chance to meet some of the other children in the village who are his age. Plus, what with Janice being engaged it gives her a little spare time to plan the wedding."

Martin sputtered over his espresso, letting out a series of coughs as his morning coffee dribbled down his chin. He picked up his napkin and blotted his face dry. "Wedding? What wedding?"

Louisa stared at her husband for a moment. "Joe and Janice. Their wedding." She watched as a confused look spread across his face. "You have no idea who I'm talking about do you?"

Martin shook his head. "I'm afraid you've lost me."

Louisa let out a sigh at her husband's poor ability at remembering names. "Janice, our childminder, and PC Penhale. They're engaged to be married, Martin. She broke the news to me yesterday."

Martin looked down at his plate. "I see."

"Naturally, she'll still care for James on the days he doesn't go to school. But I was thinking he'd go three days a week in the mornings. That way I can pick him up during lunch and leave him with Janice until our usual time. That's alright with you, isn't it?"

Martin continued to stare down at his empty eggshell, thinking. "Um, yes, it seems quite practical," he said after a few moments.

Louisa brightened a bit, sitting up straight in her chair, glad that he didn't rebuke her suggestion. "Thank you. I'll stop by the nursery after school today and see if we can't get James enrolled for a few days to test things out."

"Mm," he grunted before devouring a large piece of cantaloupe.

Louisa quickly finished her breakfast, now that she was five minutes behind schedule from sleeping through the alarm. But it was worth it, she thought to herself, as she remembered how she and Martin reaffirmed their love for one another last night. It made her cheeks turn red just thinking about it.

"Louisa," Martin said, breaking her from her reverie, "are you feeling alright? You look flushed."

Louisa turned her attention back to her husband. She was starting to feel warm. "I'm fine, Martin. Thank you," she replied, pushing her bangs to the side.

He tilted his head as he scrutinised her from across the table. "Are you feeling stressed or anxious about something?"

"Pardon?"

He gestured to her face. "The reddening of your cheeks. It's due to an increased flow of blood as the blood vessels enlarge, usually brought on by anxiety, stress, or some other heightened emotional response."

Louisa stared back at him with a raised brow. "No, none of that."

"Hmm . . ."

She narrowed her eyes at him but then stood up and moved around the table to stand behind him. Bending down next to his ear, she whispered, "My enlarged blood vessels may have been due to the close attention you paid me last night."

Martin sat rigid in his chair, her silky voice causing a shiver to run down his spine. He swallowed hard. "I see."

Louisa smiled. "I didn't have the chance to tell you this morning how much I enjoyed it. Someone was up early and didn't bother to wake me."

"I-I, um, wanted to let you sleep," he stammered, feeling the blood vessels in his own cheeks start to enlarge.

"That's very kind of you, Martin."

"Mm." He cleared his throat. "Um, what were we talking about again?"

Louisa ran her fingers through his hair. "I was telling you how much I enjoyed last night. And how much I love you."

Martin looked at James as a distraction. Pushing his chair back and standing up, he turned to face his wife. "I have patients coming in soon."

"I know," she replied softly, gazing up at him.

"I should start cleaning up. You said you were running late . . ." He picked up their plates and moved away from her towards the sink.

"Yes. Thank you, Martin." She came up to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Martin set the dirty plates in the sink and turned to look at her. Though he missed seeing her in her summer dresses, the dark, flower-print blouse and matching cardigan she was wearing still highlighted her natural beauty. "You're so beautiful, Louisa."

Her heart skipped a beat, feeling her insides melt at his endearing words. "And you're my handsome, extraordinary man," she replied, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek.

He stared at her for what seemed like forever. "You're going to be late," he finally uttered.

"Yes, I know. But I'll miss you."

"Mm, yes. I mean, I'll miss you too."

Louisa ran her thumb over the healing cut on his left cheek. "Love you," she whispered.

Taking her by surprise, Martin leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you too, Louisa."

Pulling away from him, she smiled. It felt like she couldn't move. They were finding each other again, even growing closer. She wanted the feeling to last forever. Except her thoughts were cut short by James' loud gurgles of laughter. "And I love you too, James Henry," she said, moving to her son and bending down to kiss the top of his head.

James batted at his mother's face, sensing she was going somewhere and wanting to go with. "Mum!" he cried out, wiggling his fingers at her.

Louisa let out a small chuckle as she combed her fingers through his light hair, which was beginning to look a little long. "Not today, sweetheart. You're going to have lots of fun with Janice though. But in the meantime, Daddy's going to keep you company, aren't you, Martin?" She looked up at him.

Martin nodded. "Yes."

"Da-ee!"

Louisa placed another kiss on James' cheek, making him giggle even more. "You two have a great day. And I'll see you later, okay?" James had turned his attention back to the remaining breakfast on his tray, so Louisa looked to her husband. She gave him a smile, and he gave her a tentative one in return. After buttoning her coat and slinging her school bag over her shoulder, Louisa waved and left the kitchen through the back door, already counting down the hours until she would return home to her husband and son.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

It was the last week of January and the winter storms that have been threatening the north coast of Cornwall were not kind to Portwenn and its surrounding villages. They were going on their fifth consecutive day of rain and blustering winds. And the gloomy weather was beginning to rub off on Martin and Louisa. Since it was cold and rainy and he didn't want his wife catching a nasty cold while walking, Martin had to resort to dropping Louisa off at school in the mornings. It took him a few days to get used to the new routine, since Louisa's definition of punctuality was different than his. And to make matters a bit more stressful, James Henry was to begin his first day of nursery school that Monday, putting both of his parents on edge.

"Martin!" Louisa shouted from the kitchen. "You promised me you were going to be there when we drop James off at school!" She was wiping down the kitchen table, while James was seated in his high chair watching her, sensing the growing excitement of the day ahead. She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see Martin enter the living room a moment later.

"Yes, I know," he said, stepping up into the kitchen. "But I have a patient coming in early."

Louisa blew out an exasperated breath. "Martin, we had this planned out last week. You promised me you would be there for James' first day of school."

Martin could see the disappointment in his wife's eyes. He knew this was going to be stressful for her. It was their only child's first day of school, well nursery school, that is. "I'm sorry, Louisa. But I just don't understand why it's so important."

Louisa paused her movements in cleaning the table. "It's our son's first day of school, Martin. I thought you'd want to be there to see him off."

Martin creased his brow. "He's only there for the morning."

"I know. But I think James would like for you to be there, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" Louisa looked down at James, who was looking back and forth between his parents, unsure of who to agree with. "Should Daddy come with us, James?" she asked, trying to persuade their son.

"Da-ee!" James shouted while clapping his hands. "Come!" He stretched out his arms towards Martin.

Martin turned to his son. He remained quiet for a minute until he let a hiss of air escape his nose. Glancing down at his watch, he said, "I suppose I can push back the appointment. But Louisa, I can't do this every time a patient conflicts with your schedule. As a doctor, I have a responsibility to my patients and it's terribly unprofessional of me to cancel appointments solely on the importance of a nursery school."

Louisa gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Martin. I'm sorry for pushing you. And in future, I'll try to be more understanding of your busy schedule."

Martin ducked his head. "Mm," he grunted softly. "I'll need to let Morwenna know . . ."

Louisa nodded. "Of course. I'll just finish getting James ready and then we can leave."

Martin tilted his head to the side in agreement. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, just turned and headed down the hallway under the stairs.

They arrived at the nursery school on time, much to the surprise of Martin. The wind was blowing steady and there was a light mist coming down, which was visible under the orange glow of a street lamp. Opening the back door of the Lexus, Martin ducked inside to unbuckle James. And with a single umbrella, the Ellinghams quickly shuffled their way into the school.

The building was much smaller than the primary school. The walls were bright and cheerful, covered with artwork by various ages. And there was a certain smell to the school that Louisa could only describe as the scent of children - a combination of washing powder and salty sea air. As they walked down the main hallway, children's laughter could be heard from an adjoining classroom, making James Henry squirm in his father's arms.

The couple were finally greeted by the head teacher, whom they met when they toured the school a few weeks back.

"Good morning," the woman announced with an enthusiastic smile. "And welcome!"

"Good morning," Louisa replied, reaching out to shake the head teacher's hand. "Martin, you remember Miss Leary, right?" she asked her husband, seeing a blank expression on his face. "From when we toured the school a few weeks ago?"

Martin creased his brow, still not placing the name with its face. "Um, yes," he eventually said, not in the mood to get into a row this early in the morning.

Miss Leary wasn't at all fazed by the doctor's taciturn nature. She kept her poise and smile cheerful as she turned her attention to James. "And, James, don't you look like a handsome young man."

Martin tried to refrain from scowling at the woman's obvious exaggeration but failed miserably. He felt his wife's elbow gently nudge his arm. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing that all familiar headmistress look of hers. Not wanting to waste anymore time with useless small talk, he set James down on the floor and the boy immediately grasped on to the leg of Martin's trousers, trying to shield himself.

Louisa let out a small chuckle to try and lighten the tension a bit. She took James' hand and he obediently moved to her side. "James can be a bit shy sometimes, especially when meeting new people."

"Don't worry," Miss Leary replied. "It's fairly common for children his age to be a little timid and nervous when put into an unfamiliar environment. But I'm sure James will warm up to us once we get him settled."

Louisa smiled down at her son. "So what do you think, James? Shall we give it a go?" James looked up at his mother with a confused look.

"Why don't you follow me and we can get the little guy settled in."

Martin and Louisa, with James still holding on to his mother's hand, followed the head teacher down the hall and to a large playroom, where groups of children were scattered about.

Martin curled his lip as he gazed about the room. A few of the children had parts of toys in their mouths while others were making a mess of the art supplies. He gave his wife an apprehensive look. Louisa shook her head once, pleading with him not to say anything outright.

"So, James," the head teacher began, "this is where all the fun happens."

James remained in his shell, hiding behind his mother's legs. Louisa put a comforting hand on the top of his head. "Would it be alright if we stayed for a bit until he gets comfortable?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll give the three of you a few minutes while I check on another classroom."

"Thank you." Louisa gave the woman a smile as she turned to leave the room.

"Louisa, we can't stay for much longer," Martin said. "I still have to drop you off at the school . . ."

Louisa turned to look at her husband, narrowing her eyes at him. "It'll only be a few minutes, Martin. Just until James is more comfortable."

Martin let out a sigh. "Yes."

Bending down to her son's level, Louisa smoothed her fingers through his neatly combed hair and over his small, square shoulders. "Now, James, Mummy and Daddy need to leave soon. But you're going to have a wonderful time here with the other children, okay?" She gave their little boy a nod of her head and James reciprocated. "Martin?" She glanced up at her husband. His attention seemed to be elsewhere.

Hearing his name, Martin turned away from the children playing with glue and feathers. "Hmm?"

"Would you like to say something to James before we head out?"

He shook his head. "Mm, right." Looking down at his small son, he had no idea what to say. But he could see that James looked nervous, so he tried putting himself in his son's shoes, remembering what it was like on his first day of boarding school; being sent away from home and not one goodbye or even a hug from his parents, just a pat on the head from the family's driver and that was it. As a child he felt that maybe he'd done something wrong to be sent away, but now that he was a father himself, Martin knew that his son deserved a proper send off.

Clearing his throat, Martin crouched down in front of James. He placed a broad hand on his son's shoulder. "I don't want you to be scared, James. I was sent away to school at a very young age and I didn't have anyone to say goodbye to. But your mother and I are here for you, James. You'll be just fine." He ran his fingers down the curve of his son's cheek before standing up straight again.

Louisa looked up at him from her knelt position on the floor, not quite believing that the man she married had uttered those words to their young son. She felt her heart ache for her husband's miserable childhood, but at the same time it warmed her insides to see the deep connection Martin shared with James.

They heard the door of the classroom open and Miss Leary came in, followed by another young woman. "So, James, are we ready to have a fun and exciting morning?" the head teacher asked the young Ellingham.

James stared back at the teacher with an uncertain expression. When he noticed his mother stand up, he cried, "Mum!" He reached for her, sensing she was leaving. His eyes began to well up with tears.

Louisa hoisted him into her arms and James buried his face in her neck. She gave the two teachers an apologetic look. "James, sweetheart, it'll be alright. We're not leaving you. I'll be back at lunchtime to pick you up. Don't worry . . ."

James began to cry softly and he turned his head to look at his father. "Da-ee!" he wailed, his cries intensifying.

James' outburst attracted the attention of the other children in the room. Feeling a dozen pairs of eyes trained in his direction, Martin motioned for Louisa to hand over James. Holding his son close to his chest, Martin turned away form the three women. "There's nothing to be afraid of, James," he said softly. "Your mother will be back at lunch to pick you up." James continued to tremble against him and Martin smoothed a hand down his son's back. He stood quietly for a minute until James stopped crying.

Martin set James down on his feet but the boy continued to cling to him. "I know it can be frightening," Martin said, bending down on one knee to address his son. "But can you be brave for me, James?" His son seemed to understand him as James reached out to touch his father's nose. The corners of Martin's mouth twitched and he glanced up to see his wife watching him intently. "I was also shy at your age and it was very difficult for me to make friends as a child. But I want you to have fun, James. You deserve the childhood that I never had. And your mother and I love you very much, James Henry."

Martin brushed his fingers over his son's cheek once more and James leaned forward to bury his face in his father's chest. Martin took his son into his arms, wrapping him in a hug. He ran a hand over James' head of light hair and looked to his wife. Her eyes were watering, either from what she overheard him say or from her emotional response of watching their son grow up.

Martin handed James over to Louisa once more. She hugged their little boy tightly, placing a series of kisses next to his ear. "Will you be a good boy for Mummy and Daddy?" she asked him.

"Da-ee!" James shouted, his earlier shyness seeming to vanish. He squirmed in his mother's arms, wanting to be let down.

Louisa set James down on his feet and she smiled as she watched him toddle off towards the group of children with the art supplies. She turned to look at Martin. He was watching their son with the same tender expression. She moved closer to his side and furtively took hold of his hand, making sure the two teachers couldn't see their display of affection.

"I'll be back to pick up James during lunch," Louisa said, addressing the teachers.

Miss Leary nodded. "Yes, of course. We'll see you at lunchtime, Mrs. Ellingham."

Louisa gave the women a wide smile before giving her husband's hand a gentle squeeze then releasing it. The couple took one more look at their son, who seemed to be enjoying himself already, despite their rocky beginning, and turned to leave the classroom. As they made their way down the hall, Louisa gave Martin a sideways glance. He was his usual stoic self, but she knew that underneath that reserved exterior he was feeling just as emotional as she was.

After shifting the Lexus into park in front of the gate of the primary school, Martin turned to face Louisa. Her gaze was fixed outside the windscreen as they sat in silence. "Louisa?" Martin said hesitantly, unsure of his wife's mood. He tried being pleasant while they were at the nursery school. Did he say something wrong and hadn't realised it?

She finally turned to look at him. "Thank you for coming with," she said, gazing into his eyes. "But especially for what you said to James."

Martin glanced down at his lap. "Mm, you're welcome." He felt her hand on his cheek, so he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I didn't know you could be so . . ." Louisa paused as she thought of the right adjective to describe him. She shook her head. "You're such a caring man, Martin. I hardly ever get to see that side of you. But today, when you were talking with James . . ." Her eyes began to water. Letting out a deep breath, she continued, "Martin, that was the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

"Really?" he asked, trying not to grimace at her use of the word _sweet._

Louisa nodded. "I'm so proud of you," she said softly, leaning over to take hold of one of his hands.

"For what?"

She let her fingers follow the curve of his jaw, coming to a stop at his chin. "For being such a wonderful father to our son. You've come so far since James was born. Remember in that pub when you told me you didn't want to hold him because you thought you weren't good with babies?"

Martin swallowed hard, having no idea where she was going with _that_ memory. "Mm, yes. But I held him anyway."

"Yes, you did. And I could see the fear - the uncertainty - in your eyes at becoming a father."

"Because I knew I would be rubbish at it."

"But you're not. James is a happy little boy because he has you for his father; someone whom he adores completely."

"And he has you for his mother, which I'm thankful for."

Louisa smiled, brushing her thumb back and forth across his lower lip. "Martin, you're going to make me cry."

"Mm, sorry." He leaned back in his seat.

"No, it's okay."

They stared at one another for a minute until Martin glanced down at his watch. "I should, um, let you go," he said. "I've made you late already . . ."

"It's fine." Leaning over in her seat, Louisa kissed him gently. She felt him respond, so she deepened their embrace. Finally pulling away, she let her right hand drift down the curve of his cheek. "Have a good day."

He nodded once. "Mm, you too."

"I love you, Martin."

He nodded again. "I know. I, um, I love you, too."

"I'll see you later." She reached for the door handle but he stopped her.

"Um, Louisa," he said, reaching back and handing her the rain-spotted umbrella. "I think you'll need this."

Louisa's smile widened. He could be so considerate at times. "Thank you." She kissed his cheek then opened the door.

Martin watched her as she popped open the bright blue umbrella, letting out a shriek as the wind almost pulled it from her grasp. He stayed parked by the gate until she made it safely inside the school.

A knock on the window of the car pulled Martin from his trance. He turned towards the passenger window, seeing Penhale squinting through. He had his police issued raincoat on with the hood pulled up. "Oh, God," Martin muttered to himself as he rolled the window down a few inches. "What do you want!" he shouted over the wind.

"Sorry, Doc!" the policeman replied. "But this is a no parking zone when school is in session! I'm afraid you're going to have to move on! Otherwise, if you fail to comply, I'll have to issue you a fixed penalty notice!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Martin scoffed, rolling up the window just as Penhale was about to respond. He shifted the car into drive and pulled ahead, just missing the constable's foot, and headed back to the surgery.

. . .

Martin's morning was filled with a handful of patients exhibiting a nasty cough, which he attributed to the cold and rainy weather and general stupidity of the villagers, a gentleman with a bad back, and a very unpleasant case of erysipelas.

"Why didn't you come to me when the symptoms first appeared?" Martin asked his erysipelas patient as he pulled off his pair of gloves.

The patient shrugged. "Don't know. Guess I didn't know they were symptoms of erysyphylis."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Ery- _sip_ - _elas_ ," he stressed, dropping his gloves in the bin then sitting down behind his desk.

The man slid down from the examination couch. "Well, how long will I have these symptoms?" He sat down in the chair opposite Martin. "Been trainin' for a triathlon, you see."

Martin glanced up from his writing. "You'll need a substantial course of antibiotics to get rid of the infection. Should take about a week or so to clear up, but because you let the infection get worse it may take longer."

The patient shook his head. "How did I get it in the first place?" he asked, looking down at his infected leg.

Martin let out a sigh. "Erysipelas is a bacterial infection. You said you were training for a triathlon, correct?" The patient nodded, so Martin continued, "The streptococcal bacteria that causes the infection naturally inhabits the surface of the skin without doing any harm. But an open wound or sore allows the bacteria to enter the body and cause an infection."

The patient shook his head again. "Sorry, Doc. Only understood about half of what you said. But yeah, I did have a fall from my bike a couple of weeks ago - just a few scrapes and bruises though."

Martin signed the prescription and handed it over to his patient. "Well congratulations, those few scrapes and bruises allowed you to contract erysipelas."

"Oh. No worries though, right?" He gave the doctor an encouraging smile. "A week and I should be able to continue my training."

"No!" Martin exclaimed. "Even after the infection is gone your immune system still needs time to recover. Come back and see me in two weeks. Then we'll talk about your returning to your, um, training or whatever it is."

"Alright. Thanks, Doc." The patient stood up slowly and hobbled towards the door.

Blowing out a breath, Martin shook his head as he finished writing in the patient's file.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, Martin had a short break in between patients. He went upstairs to their bedroom so he wouldn't be interrupted. He pulled out his mobile and dialed his wife's number.

"Louisa?" he said in a soft and tender tone.

"Yes, Martin?" she replied.

He sat down on the bed. "Um, I was wondering if you collected James from the nursery school yet?"

"I'm on my way there now."

Martin looked down at his lap, absently brushing his trousers free of imaginary lint. "It's still raining. Are you alright walking with just an umbrella?"

"Yes, Martin. I'm fine."

"I could come and get you and James so you don't have to walk back to the surgery in the rain."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Martin, but I'm meeting Janice at the nursery school. Joe will drop them off at the surgery."

"I see."

"Martin, I really appreciate you being there this morning. It meant a lot to me - and James, I'm sure."

"Mm."

"Okay, well, I need to go. I'm almost at the school. I'll see you tonight."

"Yes." She ended the call before he could get another word in. Letting a hiss of air from his nose, Martin tucked his mobile into the breast pocket of his suit and headed back downstairs, hoping his afternoon goes more smoothly than his morning did.

. . .

As Martin finished writing his notes for the day, he stood up and switched off the lights in his consulting room then headed out to reception to place them on Morwenna's desk. "Um, goodnight," he said.

"Night, Doc," Morwenna replied as she started filing the notes he'd left her. "See you tomorrow."

"Mm, yes." He turned away and headed to the kitchen. He could hear the radio playing as he stepped out from under the stairs. He curled his lip in annoyance. It was that ridiculous children's music Louisa insisted James enjoyed. She was dicing vegetables and Martin shuffled around her to turn off the radio.

"Mar-tin!" Louisa huffed as she looked up from the cutting board.

"Problem?" He tilted his head to the side as he gazed back at her.

"James and I were listening to that."

Martin scowled. "It's too loud."

She raised her brows at him. "Is it?" She glanced over at James, who was seated in his high chair playing with a plastic toy. "James enjoys listening to it."

Martin began surveying the messy countertop. "I'm sure he does."

Louisa frowned at his sarcastic tone and plunked down the knife she was using with unnecessary force. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to face him. "Martin, how is James supposed to learn to interact and develop when you don't allow television or let him listen to music? Studies show that music can be help enhance brain development in infants and toddlers. And it's fun . . ." She reached over and switched the radio back on but turned the volume down.

Martin ducked his head. "I see." He glanced up at her with a cautious eye. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"The water's boiling so if you could get the pasta started that would be nice."

He grunted and picked up the packet of fettuccini then carefully dumped the uncooked pasta into the boiling water. Louisa had turned back to chopping the vegetables, so Martin took a seat next to James.

James placed the end of his toy in his mouth and Martin frowned. "That's bad for your teeth, James," Martin said, pulling the toy dinosaur out of his son's mouth. He heard an angry sigh from his wife. Clearing his throat, Martin asked his son, "Did you enjoy your first day of school, James?"

James smiled at his father, reaching out and placing a tiny palm on Martin's cheek.

"He had fun, didn't you, James?" Louisa remarked as she moved towards the sink. "Can you tell Daddy what you made today?"

James turned in his chair to look at his mother. Louisa went to the refrigerator and took down a piece of paper. "Look," she said, showing Martin.

"Mm, what exactly am I looking at?"

Louisa tilted her head as she looked down at James' drawing. "I'm not really sure. But I think it's pretty good for his age."

Martin stared down at the picture in his hands. It was filled with colourful lines and swirls, resembling explosions of haphazard fireworks. "Um, well done, James." Martin handed his son's drawing back to Louisa, who secured it back on the door of the refrigerator with magnets.

After a quiet dinner, James was just about ready for bed. He was sitting in his mother's lap on the sofa, his ear pressed to her chest, while Louisa ran her fingers through his light hair, soothing him to sleep. Martin was seated next to her, engrossed in his medical journal.

For a while, Louisa watched her husband. Occasionally, he'd glance her way to find her staring at him and offer a slight smile. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the hair above his ear, causing him to turn and look at her. "What?" he said softly.

Louisa shook her head. "Nothing. I was just thinking."

Martin turned back to his journal. "Mm, about what?"

The corners of Louisa's mouth twitched. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered to ask what she was thinking, but this past year, ever since he returned home from his "excursion" at the Winton farm, he'd been putting more of an effort into their relationship. "About how much has changed between us."

"What do you mean?" He was still engrossed in his article.

"Well, you're more attentive towards me and James. You're making an effort to improve our marriage and I'm just very proud of you, Martin."

He looked up at her and smiled. "That's the second time you've said that to me today."

Louisa smiled as well. "I know. Because I am proud of you. When I came back from Spain, I was so sure that things between us would just fall apart again. But after being worried about you while you were held at that farmhouse, I came to realise how much I need you in my life; how very much I want our marriage to work. And I feel like we're growing closer as a couple, don't you?"

Martin glanced down at James for a moment before returning his gaze back to Louisa. "Um, yes, I do."

Louisa's smile widened. "Good. But I think it's time for this little one's bedtime."

Flipping his medical journal closed, Martin picked James up from Louisa's lap and shifted him against his shoulder. James let out a grunt at being moved but settled into his father's arms.

After putting James to sleep for the night, Martin switched off the light in the bathroom and climbed into bed. He settled down on his back and Louisa curled up next to his side. He shifted as he draped an arm around her shoulders. The feel of his wife's hand gently caressing his chest was putting him to sleep. Just as he began to nod off, a faint ringing was heard coming from downstairs.

Martin quickly sat up in bed, rousing Louisa in the process.

"Mar-tin?" she breathed out sleepily. "What the hell is that?"

He listened for a moment, hearing the ringing again. "It's the phone downstairs." He started to get out of bed but Louisa stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"It's the phone for the surgery. There could be an emergency."

Louisa let out a sigh. "Ugh, yes, go." She gave his arm a gentle shove then rolled over on to her side, hoping she'd be able to get to sleep. After a few minutes of listening to her husband rustle around trying to get dressed in the dark, she uttered a quiet but firm, "Be safe."

"Yes." He took one look at her still form and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of her head, but missed.

"Ow, Mar-tin!" Louisa exclaimed, getting kissed awkwardly in the eye.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Trying again, he succeed in leaving a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be back soon."

The phone continued to ring as Martin quickly rushed down the stairs. It had been a while since he was called out in the middle of the night. As he stepped into the dark reception room, he was reminded of a night years ago when a young boy was suffering from a ruptured spleen.

Picking up the phone, he uttered a quick, "Ellingham," then listened intently to the voice on the other end.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-three

"Ellingham," Martin stated firmly into the phone, listening intently for a response. "Hello?" The other end was still quiet. "Hello?" he repeated. "Is anyone there?" After a few seconds, he could hear laboured breathing through the receiver, so Martin asked again, "Is anyone there?"

A weak, "Yes," came through.

"Can you tell me your name? Or where you are?"

The breathing became more laboured and heavy. "I-I can't breathe."

The voice on the other end was very weak, and Martin could just barely comprehend the words. But the voice was distinctly male, that he knew for sure. "Sir," Martin addressed the patient on the other end, "I need you to take slow, deep breaths for me. Can you do that?" Martin moved towards his consulting room.

Flicking on the light, he picked up his medical bag and placed it on his desk. Opening it, he quickly scanned every compartment, making sure nothing was missing.

He heard a wheezy gasp through the phone. "Sir, can you hear me?" Hearing another gasp for breath, Martin continued, "I need you to think carefully and tell me where you are so I can help you? Have you called for an ambulance?" He received no distinct answer, only rasping breaths. "What's your name?" Opening a desk drawer, Martin pulled out his book of patient records.

"Bill," came out so quiet that Martin almost missed it. "Hammond . . ."

The breathing was now worse, sounding as if the patient was choking. "Mr. Hammond?!" Martin shouted through the receiver, trying to keep his patient on the phone. "Are you at home?" The line went dead and Martin cursed under his breath. His mind quickly went through possible scenarios, trying to determine a diagnosis.

Pulling open the door of the cupboard behind his desk, Martin grabbed his defibrillator kit as a precaution. He couldn't exactly be sure if his patient was having a heart attack, but he wasn't one to take any chances. Not bothering to turn off the light in the consulting room, Martin rushed out the back door of the kitchen with his medical bag in one hand and the defibrillator in the other. Settling behind the wheel of the Lexus, he dialed 999 then turned the key in the ignition.

Arriving at Mr. Hammond's cottage in record time, Martin knocked on the door once, loudly. "It's Dr. Ellingham!" he shouted. Turning the handle, he frowned as he realised it was locked. He heaved his shoulder into the door but it wouldn't budge. Deciding that he needed to break in, Martin picked up the most solid object he could find and broke one of the square window panes of the door. Reaching inside to unlock the door, the exposed skin of his wrist caught a sharp edge of the broken glass. Not paying attention to the slight sting of pain, Martin stumbled inside the cottage.

The front door led right into the kitchen and Martin was greeted with the sight of his patient lying on the floor, a knife and the phone at his side, and a steady stream of blood flowing from a wound in his hand.

Broken glass crunched under his shoes as Martin moved towards his patient and knelt down to assess the situation. Mr. Hammond's breathing was still quick and laboured with a few coughs interspersed as well. "Mr. Hammond," Martin began as he opened his medical bag and pulled out his stethoscope. "I need you to breathe in and out very slowly." The old man kept looking at the growing puddle of blood at his side, which only seemed to encourage his rapid breathing.

Snapping his fingers, Martin tried to pull his patient's attention, as well as his own, away from the blood. "Look at me," he said in a firm tone. "You need to take slow, deep breaths." Mr. Hammond's eyes once again strayed to the blood staining his kitchen floor. "No! Don't look at the blood! Watch me!" The old man wouldn't look back at Martin.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds and letting a hiss of air from his nose, Martin pulled out a gauze pad from his medical bag and placed it on the man's bleeding palm, using surgical tape to keep it in place. Then he stood up and left the room and a moment later returned with the picture of Mr. Hammond's late wife.

Placing the frame in the man's line of sight, Martin told his patient, "Mr. Hammond, look at your wife." The old man's gaze shifted to the photograph, his breathing still quick and measured.

"I think I'm havin' a heart attack," he rasped out in one breath while clutching his chest with his good hand.

"No you're not," Martin tried to reassure him. "I want you to look at your wife's picture. I'm going to listen to your chest and you're going to breathe in and out when I tell you to, alright?" Mr. Hammond nodded, so Martin unbuttoned the man's shirt and placed the diaphragm of his stethoscope on his chest, then moving around the oblique to his back.

After a few deep breaths, Mr. Hammond's breathing began to slow and even out to normal. "Good," Martin said, listening intently, then pulled the stethoscope from his ears. "A few more deep breaths . . . that's it." As he looked down at his patient, the man's cheeks were stained with tears as his gaze remained fixed on the picture of his late wife.

Clearing his throat, Martin turned his attention to Mr. Hammond's hand. The blood was starting to soak through the gauze. Swallowing hard, Martin tried to fight the oncoming nausea but couldn't. Quickly getting to his feet, he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bin under the sink.

"I'm not too fond of it either," Mr. Hammond said, finally looking at Martin.

Martin wiped his mouth with a paper towel then knelt back down at his patient's side. "Mm. It's probably what led to your panic attack."

"So it wasn't a heart attack?"

Martin shook his head. "No. The anxiety you felt made you feel as if you were. Now, let's take a look at that hand." Martin helped Mr. Hammond to a sitting position then peeled away the blood-soaked gauze. He brought his other hand to his mouth, trying not to heave at the grisly sight. The whole of Mr. Hammond's palm was sliced like that of a filleted fish. The thick layer of skin was just barely hanging on. It would require a significant amount of stitches. "This is deep. How did it happen?"

The old man coughed once as he turned away from his bleeding hand. "I was slicing vegetables when my hand slipped."

Martin furrowed his brow as he scrutinised his patient, thinking there had to be something the man wasn't telling him. "Squeeze my hand," Martin said, holding out his right palm.

Mr. Hammond grumbled to himself but reached out with his good hand and weakly gripped the doctor's fingers.

"Squeeze my hand as hard as you can."

"I am," Mr. Hammond retorted, giving Martin a glare.

"Your hand shouldn't be that weak for a man of your age."

"I've told you before, it's just my arthritis."

Martin shook his head. "Maybe, but I'm not entirely convinced that's the case. Were you given the results of the tests I referred you for?" Mr. Hammond nodded. "Good. Bring them in next week and I'll have a look at them." Without another word, Martin freed the top button of his shirt then pulled out the bottle of antiseptic and his suture kit.

As Mr. Hammond watched Martin stitch up his hand, he said, "Um, thank you, Doc, for helping me with my breathing . . . the picture helped."

Martin glanced up from his work, holding the needle and thread mid-air. "Mm, I was just doing my job."

"You have a family, Martin? Any children?"

Martin paused his suturing once more, letting out a hiss of air from his nose. "I prefer being called Dr. Ellingham." He paused to continue with another stitch. "I don't talk about my personal life with patients."

"I understand." Mr. Hammond looked away towards his wife's picture, which was standing upright a few feet away on the floor.

"I have a son," Martin said after a few minutes of silence. "A year and a half old."

"I bet he takes after you, huh?"

"Louisa says so."

"That your wife?"

Martin continued with the suturing, but mentally chastised himself for letting his personal details slip out. "Yes."

"Have you been married long?"

Martin sighed. "Mr. Hammond, would you please just let me finish?" he said, his voice sharp and irritated. "This would go a lot faster if you stop talking. Please," he added to the end of his outburst.

"Alright, alright," the old man replied defensively. "It's just, Dr. Sim and I used to talk all the time . . ."

"I'll bet you did," Martin mumbled to himself. For the next ten minutes, Martin finished suturing Mr. Hammond's hand. He just snipped the excess thread when there was a knock on the door. Martin looked up to see a team of paramedics standing in the open doorway.

"Everything okay in here?" asked one of the medics.

"We're fine," Martin replied as he cleaned up his supplies. Turning to his patient, he said, "Mr. Hammond, I'm going to send you with the paramedics for further examination. They're going to keep you overnight at the hospital as a precaution in case you have difficulties breathing again."

"Sure thing, Doc."

While Martin cleaned up the puddle of blood on the kitchen floor, the male paramedic helped Mr. Hammond to his feet and outside the cottage, where he was strapped to a stretcher then wheeled into the back of the ambulance. Martin waited for a few minutes until the ambulance was out of sight before ducking inside the Lexus and heading home.

After cleaning up the small cut on his wrist and putting away his medical bag and the defibrillator, Martin ambled upstairs, desperate to fall back into bed. Though it wasn't too late, just about half past midnight, Martin felt drained.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he briefly checked in on James, who was sleeping peacefully, before quietly entering their bedroom across the hall. Louisa was fast asleep, lying on her side with her hands curled up under her cheek. The moonlight was his only source of light as he changed back into his pyjamas.

Trying not to disturb his wife, Martin carefully eased down on to the mattress. She stirred once but fell back to sleep. Rolling on to his side and shifting closer to Louisa, Martin wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck. Her skin was warm and soft, still smelling of the perfume she wore. With his broad palm splayed over her abdomen, Martin pulled himself even closer to Louisa. Within a few minutes, he fell asleep, feeling content with his wife nestled securely in his arms.

. . .

"Oh, you're up early," Louisa announced as she entered the kitchen the next morning.

Martin turned around from feeding James to look at her. "Mm, yes."

"Sleep well?"

"Yes." He watched her as she moved to the counter to prepare her morning tea.

"I didn't hear you come in last night. Was everything alright?"

"Um, yes."

She turned around to face him, eliciting a smile. "Good." Sitting down with her cup of tea, Louisa brushed her fingers through James' hair. "He needs a haircut soon."

"Mm," Martin grunted. "I could as well." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Maybe we could head to Wadebridge later tonight? James and I could get a haircut while you do some shopping . . . or if there's anything you need . . ." He shrugged. "We could go out to dinner afterwards - if you want?"

Louisa smiled at him. "That would be nice, Martin. And I do need to get some shopping done." She paused to chew on her lip, wondering how Martin was going to handle her news. "I'm planning a welcome back party for Elliot at the end of the week."

"I see."

"I ran into him the other day and he said his doctors cleared him to go back to work. He mentioned he was planning on coming back to school Friday. I just thought you should know."

"Um, yes."

Louisa reached out and covered his hand with hers. "Are you sure you're okay with it, Martin?"

Martin shook his head. "Yes, it's fine."

"You could always stop by the party for a few minutes . . . if you have the time, that is."

"Mm, maybe."

Louisa smiled to herself. At least it wasn't a definite _no_. "Good."

"Will you be ready to leave soon?" Martin asked as he wiped James' face with his bib.

Louisa finished the last bite of her toast and nodded. "I'm sorry for making you do all this."

He flipped his medical journal shut and stood up from his chair. "What do you mean?"

"Your having to drive me and James to school everyday."

"Its fine," he said, placing his used breakfast dishes in the sink. "I don't mind it."

Louisa smiled up at him. "Good. I just hope these storms will be over soon. I can't take much more of this cold and rainy weather."

"I think it's supposed to clear up by the end of the week."

"Hmm." Standing up and facing Martin, Louisa straightened his tie then smoothed her fingers over the lapels of his dark gray suit. "Maybe we can do something fun this weekend?" she suggested.

"Mm, maybe." Staring into her eyes, Martin reached out and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You look very beautiful today," he said, running his fingers down her cheek.

Louisa's smile widened. "Thank you, Martin. You look very dashing yourself." She couldn't help touching him. She straightened the collar of his light blue shirt. The solid, dark-coloured tie he chose contrasted the pale blue of his eyes, making him seem even more enticing.

"Louisa?" she heard him say. Snapping out of her trance, she shook her head. "What?"

Martin swallowed hard, seeing _that_ look in his wife's eyes. "We need to leave soon. I need to be back in time to get ready for my first patient."

Louisa shook her head. "Right, yes. Give me five minutes?"

Martin nodded and watched as she rushed off towards the stairs. Turning to his son, who had been rather quiet this morning, Martin picked him out of his high chair and set him down on the floor of the living room to let him play before they left for the nursery school.

. . .

Later that same day, the Ellinghams arrived in Wadebridge at half past four without difficulty. James held on to his father's hand as they walked the short distance from the car to the barbershop.

"James," Louisa said as she bent down to her son's level, "you have fun with Daddy, okay? And be on your best behaviour." James gave his mother a smile and a giggle. Standing back up to her full height, she addressed Matin. "Not too short, alright?"

Hoisting James up into his arms, Martin nodded. "Yes."

Louisa swiped her fingers through James' hair, relishing in its silkiness before its length was cut short. "I'll meet you by the car when I'm done."

"Yes." Martin stood still for a moment as he watched his wife head down the sidewalk. James waved to his mother as Martin turned to head into the barbershop.

An hour later, Louisa made it back to the parked Lexus with several plastic bags of shopping. But there was no sign of Martin and James. Fumbling to retrieve her mobile, Louisa finally fished the phone from her purse and sent a text message to her husband. She waited for him to respond, but after a few minutes decided to head in the direction of the park, thinking it was the only other place where she'd find them.

She wasn't prepared for the sight that awaited her. James was at the top of a yellow slide and Martin was at the bottom, ready to catch him. With a shriek, James pushed himself down the slide, letting out a laugh when Martin caught him at the bottom, sweeping him up into his arms in the process. "Mum!" James squealed as he spotted her over Martin's shoulder.

Martin whirled around, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Louisa waved to her two boys as she walked over to them. It was still cold out as they had James bundled up in a thick coat and knit cap, but the rain had stopped and the sun was still nowhere to be seen. "Having fun?" she asked, coming to a stop in front of her husband.

"Yes. We were done early, so I thought James might enjoy some physical activity."

Louisa smiled at his use of the words _physical_ _activity_. She noted his shorter hair, closely cropped as usual. James had his blue knit cap on, leaving her to imagine what hairstyle her husband had chosen for their son. "Did you enjoy getting your hair cut, James?" she asked their little boy.

James let out a shriek of laughter as he reached his arms out for his mother. "Um, can I take some of your bags?" Martin asked, noticing two in each of her hands.

"Yes, thank you, Martin." She handed him a few bags while she took hold of James with her free arm.

"Did you, um, get everything you needed?"

"Yep, got everything checked off my list."

Martin nodded. "Good. Um, shall we?" He gestured in the direction of the car.

"If you're ready, yes. But maybe James wants to stay a bit longer?"

Martin frowned as he looked down at his watch. "We've been here for over twenty minutes and it'll be getting dark soon. I'd rather find someplace to eat before it gets busy."

"Alright, he has a fair point, doesn't he, James?" Louisa said, bouncing their son in her arms.

They dropped Louisa's shopping bags off at the Lexus then walked to the restaurant Martin had recommended since it passed his guidelines for nutrition and kitchen hygiene.

After being seated at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, Louisa immediately started rattling off her plans for Elliot's welcome back party. As he listened, Martin found it odd that the doctors in Truro had cleared the teacher to return back to work so soon. It had only been three weeks since the procedure. If he remembered correctly, patients who underwent brain surgery usually needed a month's worth of recovery time - at the very minimum - before returning to normal everyday activities. He was tempted to pull out his mobile and phone the hospital, but decided against it. Louisa would have disapproved. Instead, he just sat quietly and listened to his wife, occasionally stealing a look at James, who was engrossed in his drawing.

"I'd really love it if you could stop by," Louisa was saying as their waiter came by with their meal. "Even if it's just for a few minutes. I'm sure Elliot would really appreciate it if you stopped in to say hello."

Martin took a drink from his glass of water. "I don't know if I'll be able to get away."

Louisa nodded as she began cutting up James' dinner into bite-sized pieces. "I understand."

After swallowing a mouthful of fish, he said, "I don't think your teacher friend should be heading back to work this soon."

Louisa leaned back in her chair as she narrowed her eyes at her husband. "His name's Elliot. Why? Why do you say it's too soon for him to come back to school?"

"Because he just had major brain surgery not three weeks ago. It takes a good month to properly recover, Louisa, sometimes longer. I'm just concerned about the children - in case something were to happen."

"Martin, you're starting to worry me." She was briefly reminded of Mr. Strain and his odd, threatening behaviour towards her and the children he took with to the beach. But Elliot was fine. He assured her, Martin had assured her. So what was the big deal?

Martin shook his head. "I'm not trying to make you worry, Louisa. I just think, given his occupation and previous behaviour, that he continue to recover for a few more weeks, that's all."

"But I talked to him a few days ago. He seemed just fine to me."

Martin turned towards James for a moment, watching the toddler as he stuffed his food into his mouth. "Maybe I should have a look at him sometime this week and see for myself."

Louisa nodded, agreeing that his reasons sounded justifiable enough. "Yeah. I guess you do make a fair point. And I'd hate for anything to happen to the children if he wasn't entirely better."

"Mm, I'll, um, give him a call tomorrow."

Louisa softened her expression as she looked across the table at her husband. "Thank you, Martin, for being so considerate of Elliot's health."

Martin glanced up at her from his plate. "You're welcome. I'm just concerned about your and the children's safety."

Louisa smiled at him, thinking how far he'd come since the years when they first met. She was caught staring at him, so she reached over and gently swiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

"Did I have something on my face?" Martin asked, looking perplexed as he brought his napkin up to his lips.

Louisa shook her head. "No. It was just an excuse to touch you." He continued to look confused. "I meant it as a gesture of affection, Martin."

He furrowed his brow, his eyes roaming the room to see if any of the other patrons were watching them. "I see." Then, taking his wife completely by surprise, Martin reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Suddenly, he heard a loud, familiar, cackle of a laugh, followed by, "Yes, I win! Now hand it over, Al Large!"

Martin could recognise that laugh anywhere. He turned to his left to see his receptionist and Al Large seated at a table not ten steps away. "Oh, God," Martin mumbled to himself as a frown etched its way on to his face.

"What are Al and Morwenna doing here?" Louisa wondered out loud. She waved at the couple and Martin quickly reached out to shove her arm down.

"Don't get their attention," he hissed. "Otherwise they'll come over here."

"Mar-tin, be sociable. We never run into any of our friends outside the village. It'll be nice to talk for a bit." Louisa gestured for Al and Morwenna to join them.

"Louisa, no." Martin's tone was adamant.

"Just for a few minutes, Martin. Please?"

Martin sighed. "Fine." He crossed his arms and stared back at her with a glare.

"Be nice," she whispered, putting on a large smile as the young couple approached their table. "What are you two doing here?" Louisa asked.

Morwenna took hold of Al's hand. "It's our fifth date. Isn't it?" She looked towards Al for confirmation.

"Uh, yep. I think so." He reached up to scratch his scruffy beard.

Morwenna elbowed him in the side. "Yer supposed to know these things, Al Large."

Al chuckled. "Right. Um, yes, it is our fifth date." He received a smile from Morwenna.

"I didn't think this would be the type of place you'd two like to eat at," Louisa remarked.

Morwenna shrugged. "It isn't. There's hardly anything on the menu with cream and butter. But we saw you and the Doc and the little guy head in and decided, why not? Seemed like it was a worth a try."

Louisa glanced over at her husband, gently nudging his foot with her own under the table. He tilted his head to the side. _Be_ _sociable_ , she mouthed to him. He furrowed his brow, still not understanding her. She shook her head. "Are you two doing anything else later tonight?"

Morwenna turned to face Al. "Not really sure. Might go out for drinks since I just nabbed a tenner from this guy." She elbowed Al in the side again and they both laughed. "You see," Morwenna began to explain, "We noticed how close you two looked, so I bet Mr. Large here ten quid that the Doc could be just as affectionate in public." She turned to Martin, playfully hitting his shoulder. "You just made me ten pounds richer, Doc." She smiled at Martin but he wasn't very enthused.

"Oh for God's sake," he muttered to himself.

Louisa kicked his shin this time, forcing a smile. "Well, it was wonderful running into you," she said, sensing her husband was about to explode with rage.

Morwenna nodded. "Right. Of course. We didn't mean to interrupt you . . ."

"Not at all. We were almost ready to head out ourselves."

"Good seeing you outside the village, Doc," Al said, trying to move things along.

"Mm, yes."

"Enjoy the rest of your evenin'," Morwenna said, waving to James. He waved back at her and giggled. "He's such a cutie!"

Louisa smiled. "I know. He had his first haircut today." She smoothed her fingers over James' cropped hair, which was almost a carbon copy of his father's, minus the receding hairline.

"Someone's growin' up fast."

"That's what I've been saying."

Seeing how uncomfortable Martin looked, Morwenna decided it was time they move on. "So, I shall see you tomorrow morning then, Doc."

"Yes," Martin nodded.

"Bye, Morwenna. Bye, Al. Have a good night." Louisa waved to the couple as they headed back to their table. She gave her husband a glare.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to contain her anger. "Because you hardly said two words to them, Martin."

"I don't have anything in common with them. What am I supposed to say?"

" _How are you? Lovely to see you here._ I don't know, Martin, something like that." She pushed her bangs to the side, trying not to let his reticence get to her. She turned her attention to James as a distraction.

Martin cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

Louisa glanced over at him. "It's okay, Martin. It'll just take time for you to get used to seeing people outside the village. I understand that. It would just be nice if you could make more of an effort at conversation. I mean, you speak with Morwenna every day - she's your receptionist. And I know you like Al. It's not as if they were total strangers."

"But you invited them over when I told you not to."

Louisa took in a deep breath. "I just thought it was the polite thing to do."

Letting out a stream of air from his nose, Martin reached over and covered her hand with his own. Louisa turned her hand and took hold of his fingers. "Next time, I'll try harder to be sociable. I'll make an effort, as you say."

Louisa smiled at him, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm, you're welcome." He let go of her hand and finished the last of his dinner.

Louisa watched him. He said he was going to make more of an effort. And she loved him for that; his willingness to change and be a better person - a better husband and father - all for her. She looked over at James in his high chair. He was occupied with his food, pushing it around with his fingers and playing with it, rather than eating it. She wondered how much James was going to be like Martin when he grew older. But she didn't care if he turned out to be shy and introverted. She loved Martin, even his personality quirks, with everything she had in her. And she loved James, no matter who he would take after in the years to come.

 **A/N: I just want to mention that Mr. Hammond will be a regular feature in my story, so I hope you grow to like him as much as I do. I've modeled him somewhat after the character of Mr. Moysey from series 6 as far as his grumpiness, but without the scurvy. Mr. Hammond does have a soft side to him, as you shall see (hope I didn't give too much away there). Again, I greatly appreciate all your kind comments and generous praise. I'm having so much fun writing this story that I hope everyone is still enjoying it!**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

Wednesday started out with a heavy downpour, waking James Henry in the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately, his wailing cries woke both of his parents as well.

"Don't worry, James, Mummy's coming," Louisa mumbled to herself as she knotted the sash of her dressing gown while making her way across the hall to the nursery. "Oh, sweetheart, it's alright. It's just rain." She picked James up from his cot and cradled him against her shoulder. No longer a baby, Louisa had to support his growing weight with both arms. She sat down in the rocking chair, James' cries muffled in the crook of her neck, as she rubbed a hand over his back to calm him.

"Everything alright?" Martin asked as he stuck his head in the nursery.

Louisa looked up at her husband, a slight smile forming. His normally combed hair was tousled from sleep, giving him that boyish appearance she seldom saw. He still looked tired though, as she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the light shadow of stubble peppering his jaw and chin. "Yes, we're fine," she replied, looking down at James. He'd fallen back to sleep. "You still have a few hours until the alarm goes off. Why don't you go back to bed?"

He shook his head. "I don't think I'd get any extra sleep . . ."

"You look tired, Martin. I'll be over in a minute and we can lie down together. How does that sound?"

He tilted his head to the side as if contemplating an important decision. "Um, that would be good . . . I mean, I'd like that." The corners of his mouth twitched, hinting at a smile.

Louisa smiled widely, despite the early hour. "Okay. Good."

Martin stood in the doorway of the nursery for a moment as he watched his wife settle their son back into his cot. She brushed her fingers down James' cheek, her heart melting at his innocence. The toddler kicked his legs, sensing he was being disturbed, so Louisa retracted her hand and turned to leave the nursery. She was startled to find Martin still standing behind her in the doorway. "Hopefully he'll settle for a few hours," she said, taking Martin's hand and guiding him back to their bedroom.

Lying down on his back, Martin waited for Louisa to curl up next to his side. He welcomed her with an open arm as she nestled her head against his shoulder. "Close your eyes," she whispered to him. "You need your sleep."

"Mm," he grunted, turning his head to look at her. She moved her arm so it was draped across his stomach. "You're so very beautiful, Louisa." His voice was a whisper as she tightened her hold on him.

Louisa snuggled closer as a small smile formed. Tilting her head, she kissed his neck. "You make me melt inside whenever you say things like that, Martin."

He furrowed his brow, confused by the phrasing of her words. "That's good, right?"

Glancing up at him, she said, "Yes, Martin, it is. Don't be afraid to express your feelings with me. Because I cherish every kind and loving word."

Martin was silent. He placed a hand on the arm covering his stomach and absently began caressing her through the thin material of her nightshirt. "I'll keep that in mind," he eventually replied.

"Go to sleep, Martin," Louisa said softly as she nuzzled her cheek against the bone of his shoulder. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Mm," he grunted before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, knowing, without a doubt, that she'd be there next to him when the alarm clock went off.

A few hours later, it finally stopped raining outside, but the atmosphere in the Ellingham household was chaotic and full of energy. Janice sat idly next to James at the table as she watched her employers scramble about the kitchen.

"Louisa," Martin was saying as he rifled through the bowl of children's toys in the centre of the table. "Where are my car keys?"

"I don't know, Martin," she replied while gathering her school bag together. "Don't you usually leave them in the bowl on the table?"

Martin let out a frustrated sigh. "I've looked there but I still can't find them."

James looked up at his father with an amused expression. As Martin whirled around to look on the countertop, James hiccuped and waved his little arms, causing the car keys to jingle as they fell from his fingers.

Martin turned around and glanced down at the floor, seeing his keys lying next to James' high chair. Janice held a hand up in front of her face to shield her smile. Martin looked at the childminder first then towards his son, who was starting to giggle. "That's not funny, James."

"Da-ee!" James squealed. "Key!" He pointed at the shiny keys on the floor.

"Way to go little man," Janice said, tickling the toddler's cheek.

Martin frowned. "Don't encourage him!" he shouted.

"Mar-tin!" Louisa hissed at him. "Keep your voice down or you'll scare James."

Realising he may have been too harsh, he turned and muttered his apology to Janice, "I'm sorry for raising my voice."

"Don't be. It was my fault," Janice said, looking down at her hands. "I was just trying to make a joke out of it and I shouldn't have. It won't happen again, Doc, I promise."

"Mm." He bent down and picked up his keys. Then looking towards Louisa, he said, "We need to leave soon."

"Yes." She began looking through her school bag again, thinking she'd forgotten something. "I can't find my report."

Martin creased his brow. "Your what?"

"My report for the school governors about the gym equipment I've been petitioning for. I know I put it with the rest of my notes last night, but it's not here."

"Maybe you left it at the school."

"I didn't leave it at school," Louisa huffed out. "I know I brought it home because I needed to finish my closing argument." She glanced up at Martin. "This is why I need my own office space here at home."

"What? So you can misplace things here as well?"

Louisa gave her husband a glare. "That was unkind, Martin."

He began fiddling with his keys as he looked down at his shoes. "I, um, I didn't mean to be -"

"Rude?" Louisa finished for him.

Glancing up at her, he nodded.

Louisa shook her head, trying to brush aside her growing frustration. "It's fine. I'll just have a quick look upstairs then we can leave."

Martin looked down at his watch again. They should have been at the school by now. At least James wasn't scheduled to attend nursery school that morning. "Louisa!" he shouted as his wife dashed past him towards the stairs. "Oh, for God's sake," he muttered to himself. Turning on his heel, Martin ducked under the stairs and headed to reception to inform Morwenna that he was going to be a few minutes late for his first patient.

"James, no!"

Hearing Janice's voice from the waiting room, Martin turned and went back to the kitchen. His son had gotten a little too excited with his breakfast. James' face and clothes were smeared with oatmeal and mashed banana.

"I tried to stop him," Janice said as she looked up at the doctor with an apologetic look.

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose just as Louisa came running from the stairs. "What's wrong?!" she cried. "Is James alright?"

"He's fine," Janice replied while attempting to clean the toddler's face. "Just made a mess with his breakfast, is all."

"Oh, James," Louisa said, shaking her head at her son. "Now we're going to have to get you cleaned up."

She reached for James but Martin stopped her. "No, no, no! We don't have time for this!"

"It'll only take a few minutes, Martin." Louisa wiped James' face with his bib then slipped it over his head and dropped it on the table.

Martin's fingers twitched at his sides. He counted to five in his head as a method for containing his anger, but the longer he was being kept waiting, the more irritated he became.

Louisa could see that her husband was struggling to control his frustration. He looked as if he was about to explode at any minute.

"I don't have time for this!" Martin exclaimed as his wife began rattling off instructions on how to get James cleaned up and changed in a fresh set of clothes. "Louisa, we are leaving - now!" Clutching his keys in his hand, he turned and stormed out the kitchen door, not caring that he slammed it shut on his way out.

Louisa cringed as the door banged shut, causing a teacup that was sitting on the counter to rattle against its saucer. She quickly kissed her son goodbye and handed him off to Janice. Slinging her school bag and purse over her shoulder, she slipped out the kitchen door and rushed around the corner after her husband.

"Martin!" Louisa shouted as she came around the side of the surgery.

Martin ignored his wife as he stalked out to the front terrace.

"You do not get to walk out like that!" He still wouldn't face her. Grabbing his upper arm, she attempted to turn him around. "Martin Ellingham, would you look at me while I'm talking to you?"

Martin yanked his arm free of her grasp and spun around to face her. He tilted his head to the side. "Alright, I'm listening."

Louisa glared at him. "Don't be snide with me, Martin."

"I'm not." Martin scowled as Buddy scampered up and began circling his feet. He gave the dog a shove with his foot.

"Yes you are. And I don't appreciate you walking out of the house in a fit of anger."

Martin jabbed a finger at the face of his watch. "We're _late,_ Louisa. I don't have time to talk about this." He ignored her angry look and turned to head for the steps but Buddy got in his way. He tripped over the little terrier and stumbled forward, down towards the pavement. He heard his wife's cry, and she was suddenly grabbing at his arm. A second later, he felt something give way as his shoulder hit the lip of the second step and he tumbled over on to the pavement.

"Martin!" Louisa cried out as she rushed over to him.

Martin sat up and let out a moan as he clutched at his right shoulder. "That idiot dog!" he spat out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, God, Martin! Are you hurt?" Louisa asked as she knelt in front of him.

He began breathing heavy, trying to fight the pain he knew was coming. "My shoulder. I think it's dislocated." He moved his right arm a fraction of an inch to confirm his suspicions. "Ow! Yeah, it's dislocated. And I think I may have sprained my wrist." He flexed the fingers of his left hand, feeling discomfort there as well.

Louisa's eyes began to tear up. "Was it my fault? Did I dislocate your shoulder?"

Martin furrowed his brow. "What? No, of course not." He pointed an accusing finger at Buddy, who was resting his chin on his front paws as he was lying at the top of the stone steps, staring down at Martin. "That stupid dog tripped me up!"

Louisa shook her head. "No, I mean, I grabbed your arm as you started to fall forward." She bit her lip. "Did I . . ." Sucking in a breath, she continued, "Did I pull your arm out of its socket?"

Martin could see the distress in his wife's eyes. He shook his head vehemently. "No, not necessarily. I think the fall was what pushed the shoulder forward. I landed on it with a good amount of force."

"Should I call an ambulance?"

Martin shook his head again, taking in a deep breath. "I can't wait that long. You'll have to do the reduction."

"What?! You mean, push it back in place?! Martin, no! I can't!"

A ripple of pain coursed through his displaced shoulder and down his arm, and Martin let out a loud groan. "You can," he managed to get out through clenched teeth. "I'm going to be in a lot of pain soon and I can't properly perform the procedure on myself." Tears were running down her cheeks as Martin gazed back at her. With his good arm, he reached out and took her hand. "Louisa, look at me." He closed his eyes for a second, trying to fight the pain. When he opened them again, she was looking at him. "Remember our honeymoon and our venture in the woods?" She nodded. "And that unpleasant man we ran into who dislocated his shoulder and sliced his carotid artery?" She nodded again. "I'm going to tell you exactly what to do, just like I did in the woods, alright?"

"Okay." Her voice was shaky as she tried to be strong for him. Seeing the obvious discomfort on his face was frightening. She had never seen him in such physical pain.

"Louisa," Martin said, trying to get her attention. He weakly squeezed her hand and her eyes looked deep into his. "You can do this." He let out another groan as the pain was becoming too much to tolerate. "Move over to my side." He motioned with his good arm and waited until she was in position. Then he moved her hand and placed it on his right forearm. "Do exactly as I say."

Louisa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Lift my arm so my elbow is at ninety degrees and pressed against my side."

"Okay." Picking up his limp right arm, Louisa did as he instructed.

"Now rotate my arm until I tell you to stop." She followed his directions and began to rotate his arm when Martin let out a scream, "Argh!"

Louisa was startled by the horrific sound that escaped her husband's lips. "I'm sorry!" She let go of his arm and it fell limply at his side.

"No, don't let go!" he moaned.

"Sorry!" she cried out, and picked up his arm again, bending it back to a ninety degree angle.

Martin tried to slow his breathing but couldn't. "Don't . . . let . . . go . . . no matter . . . what . . . sound . . . comes out of . . . my mouth."

"Okay." Louisa frantically wiped at her tears, afraid that she was causing him pain. "I can't do it. I'm sorry, Martin, but I can't. I'm hurting you."

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he should have just waited for an ambulance to arrive. "Focus on my eyes, Louisa. When I start to scream, look at me and slow your movements."

"Okay."

Taking in a deep breath, Martin nodded for Louisa to begin rotating his arm. Pain coursed down his shoulder and he struggled not to scream. "Slow down!" he hissed. Louisa slowed the rotation of his arm. "Okay, stop!" He took in a few quick breaths before continuing with the procedure. "Now grab my wrist and pull my arm towards you . . . Good, stop. Now rotate my arm towards my chest and you should hear a soft pop as the humeral head slips back into the glenoid fossa, erm, the socket."

Louisa chewed on her lip as she rotated his arm inward towards his opposite shoulder.

 _Pop_!

She heard it! Then she felt his arm relax against her. "I did it?"

"Yes," Martin nodded, feeling relief as the intense pain abated. "Thank you."

Louisa's eyes began to well with tears again. "Martin, I was so terrified I was going to mess it up and something would happen to you . . ."

Taking hold of her hand, he gazed into her eyes. "But you were brave. And you did just fine."

Noticing a red mark forming on his forehead, Louisa placed her palm on his cheek. "I think you were the brave one. I hurt you."

Martin shook his head. "You didn't hurt me, Louisa." He paused for a moment. "You know, after all the times you've assisted me, I think you would've made a wonderful nurse."

"Hmm. Doctor and Nurse Ellingham . . ." She smiled at him while she caressed his cheek with her thumb. "We do make quite the pair, don't we?"

"Mm."

Leaning forward, Louisa gently kissed his brow. "I think we better get you inside." Standing up, she bent down to grab his good arm.

"She didn't kick you out again, did she, Doc?" a middle-aged man chuckled as he walked by the couple.

Martin scowled at the man as Louisa helped him to his feet. "Ignore him," she said while wrapping an arm around his waist.

"That's my first patient," Martin sneered as he watched the man enter the surgery.

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Oh." She noticed his movements beginning to slow as she helped him towards the front door. "Maybe you should go to the hospital, Martin? Have them check you over just to be sure?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I just need to sit down." He pushed on the door and let out a groan.

"You're not fine, Martin, and you know it. C'mon, let's get you inside and I'll have Morwenna phone PC Penhale."

"No! I am not sitting in that police car with him while he natters on about nothing!"

Ignoring him, Louisa opened the door and helped him inside.

Morwenna looked up from her desk with a smile but it soon faded as she realised it was Martin and Louisa. "Everythin' alright?" she asked hesitantly, seeing Martin leaning heavily against Louisa.

"Martin had a bit of a tumble," Louisa explained. "Could you phone Penhale and ask if he could drive Martin to Truro?" The girl nodded. "Thanks, Morwenna."

"It's nothin' serious though, right, Doc?"

"No," Martin breathed out as he shuffled to his consulting room. After the door closed, he sat down heavily behind his desk and looked to his wife. "Louisa, I'm not having that moron drive me to hospital. I'm fine."

Louisa placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not fine, Martin. How do you expect to get through the day with your shoulder?"

He looked away from her towards the window.

"If you can't stand Penhale then I'll drive you."

"But what about the school?" he said, turning back to face her. "Surely you don't want to miss work."

"You're right. I don't want to miss work. But you need medical attention, Martin. So either Penhale takes you to hospital or I do. It's your choice." She raised her eyebrows as she waited for him to answer.

Martin knew he was being stubborn. But as a doctor he also knew that his injuries weren't too serious. His shoulder would have to be in a sling for a week or so. Surely he had something around here that could do the job. And his left wrist might be sprained, but ice and limited movement was all that was needed. But looking up at his wife, he knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I thought you didn't like driving?"

"I do, just not very often. But this is different."

"I see."

"C'mon," she said, gesturing for him to stand up.

Martin grumbled to himself as he followed his wife out to the waiting room.

. . .

At the hospital in Truro, Martin sat impatiently in an examination room as he observed the orthopaedic specialist that was fitting him with a sling that supports the arm away from the body in order to immobilize the shoulder in a mild external rotation.

"How does that feel Doctor Ellingham?" the specialist asked.

Martin frowned as he looked down at his arm. "Extremely inconvenient."

The specialist chuckled. "I understand you have quite the busy practice in . . . ?"

"Portwenn."

"That's right. Been there a few times myself. Lovely little village . . ."

Martin held up his hand, trying to halt their conversation. "Are we done here?"

The specialist pulled off his gloves and stood up from his stool. "How's the pain level? Any soreness?"

"A little," Martin grumbled as he reached up to rub his aching shoulder.

"Okay. I'll write you a prescription for an anti-inflammatory to help relax the muscles in the shoulder, as well as a painkiller if you need it. But ice and plenty of rest will help the muscles and joint recover."

Martin was growing impatient as he sat and listened to the orthopaedic specialist. "Yes, I'm well aware of the healing process."

The specialist smiled as he handed over the prescription. "Your X-rays look good," he said as he gazed over at Martin's scans. "No significant shoulder damage as far as I can see, but keep an eye on that left wrist. We'll talk about some physical therapy and motion exercises once we remove the sling, nothing too extensive. We just want to make sure everything's healing and working properly."

"Yes."

"If you feel any additional discomfort you know who to call."

"Yes," Martin replied as he slipped off the end of the examination table and left the room.

"Mart!" a voice called out.

Hearing his name, Martin turned around to see his old friend Chris Parsons heading towards him. "Chris?"

"I heard you were roaming the halls," Chris said as he caught up with Martin. He wrinkled his brow at the sight of his friend's arm. "What happened there?"

Martin shook his head. "Dislocated shoulder. It's nothing."

Chris chuckled. "Only you would say that."

"Mm."

"So how long are they keeping you in that sling?"

"Two weeks - three at the most. It's ridiculous."

Again, Chris chuckled at his friend's stubbornness. "Don't worry, Mart, it'll go by fast. But on the plus side, you'll be doted on for a few weeks."

Martin scowled. "It's an anterior shoulder dislocation, Chris. I'm not dying. I don't need to be _doted_ on."

Chris smiled. "Again, you're the only person I know who'd say that."

Martin cleared his throat. "Um, Louisa is waiting for me," he said as he continued walking towards the waiting area.

"Right," Chris nodded as he tried keeping in step with his friend. "I won't keep you. I have a meeting in . . ." He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. How's that little boy of yours, hmm? James, right?"

"Yes. James is . . . good. He's fairly happy as far as I can tell."

Chris' smile widened as he noticed the tender expression on his friend's face at the mention of James. "Good. He must be getting big."

Martin nodded. "Yes. He'll be two in July."

Chris stopped his friend at the end of the hall. "That's great. I'm really happy for you, Mart." He stuck out his left arm as the two friends awkwardly shook hands.

The corners of Martin's mouth twitched. "Mm, thank you."

"I'll have to come down to Portwenn soon. Pay you a visit."

"Um . . . yes."

Chris smiled. "Good seeing you, Mart."

"Chris," Martin nodded as the two men went their separate ways.

"Is everything alright?" Louisa asked once Martin appeared in the waiting area.

"Yes. X-rays were negative."

Louisa smiled. "That's great." She glanced at the sling immobilizing his right arm. "How long will you need to wear the sling?"

"A few weeks."

She nodded. "Now we'll both know what it feels like to have an arm in a sling," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Martin's face fell at her words. He hated being reminded of her accident. He always felt that he was the one to blame for her unhappiness. But they were past that now. "Yes, I suppose so." He looked down at his shoes. "Can we go now?" he asked, glancing up at her nervously.

"Yes, of course." She linked her right arm through his left as they turned to leave the hospital, trying not to worry over her husband's sudden change in mood.

. . .

"You should go to work, Louisa," Martin insisted as they entered the kitchen, back home from Truro.

"No, I want to stay home and help you get settled. You'll be dependent on that left hand for a few weeks."

"Louisa, my hand is perfectly fine. It's the shoulder that's going to be sore."

Louisa raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh? So the specialist who examined you said it was okay for you to continue seeing patients?"

Martin averted his gaze towards the window. "Not exactly."

She crossed her arms. "I see. And what does _not_ _exactly_ actually mean, then?"

"That, um, I should take it easy and stop work for at least a week."

"Right. So upstairs you go." She gestured towards the ceiling. "I'll explain the situation to Morwenna and then I'll help you get comfortable, okay?"

Martin sighed, feeling useless and utterly defeated. "Okay," he muttered before turning and heading for the stairs.

Louisa knocked on their closed bedroom door a short time later. "Come in," she heard him say. As she entered their room, Martin shifted himself to a sitting position against the headboard. "I brought you some ice," she said as she moved towards him.

"Thank you." He took the ice pack and positioned it against his shoulder. He shifted, trying to get comfortable and let out a soft groan.

"Are you in pain, Martin?" Louisa asked, taking a seat next to his legs at the foot of the bed.

He shook his head. "Not really. It's just a bit sore. Nothing I can't handle."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him, suspecting that he wasn't telling her the whole truth. "Did the doctor give you a prescription?"

He nodded and pointed at his jacket, which was draped across the end of the bed. "It's in the breast pocket of my suit."

Louisa rifled through his suit and pulled out the piece of paper. "I can run down to the pharmacy and have Mrs. Tishell fill it for you - if you want?"

"Mm, yes. Thank you."

"I just hope she doesn't give me a hard time."

Martin furrowed his brow. "Why would she?"

Louisa shrugged. "Maybe because you're the patient this time."

"I see."

Louisa stood up and moved around to her side of the bed. Sitting down next to him, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Your forehead's starting to bruise," she said, noticing a dark, purplish spot above his right eyebrow.

"Mm, it's fine."

She smiled at him, knowing he was doing his best to be strong for her. "I'll let you rest and take it easy while I head over to the pharmacy." He nodded and Louisa gingerly took hold of his right hand. "Please let me take care of you, Martin. I know you think you're strong enough to recover on your own, but you're not alone. If you're in pain I want you to tell me, okay?" He nodded silently. "Because when I had my accident and after the procedure you performed, I just left. I didn't allow you to fuss over me when I should have. So please let me help you. I'm your wife, Martin, that's what I'm here for."

Martin felt his eyes start to water and blinked back his tears. He lifted his good arm and placed his hand on her cheek. "Thank you, Louisa, for taking me to the hospital."

Louisa smiled as she took the hand that was on her cheek and kissed the backs of his fingers. "Of course. I hate to see you like this, you know."

Martin nodded his head. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will. You're so strong."

"So are you."

"Martin . . ."

He was lost in her enchanting eyes. "Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I know."

Giving him one last smile, Louisa leaned forward and placed a kiss on his temple. "I'll be back in a little bit. So don't go running off."

The corners of his mouth twitched as he almost laughed. "I won't."

"Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?" He shook his head, so she patted his legs then stood up and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Louisa buried her hands in the pockets of her coat as she walked down Roscarrock Hill. It was a cold and dreary afternoon with a mild breeze. Looking over at the harbour, the boats were bobbing up and down with the waves.

Nearing the bottom of the hill, she could hear the fishermen down on the Platt joking and laughing as they hauled in their catch of the day. She waved to a shopkeeper as she turned and headed for the pharmacy.

There was no sign of Mrs. Tishell as Louisa peered in through the glass windows. Taking in a deep breath to prepare herself, she opened the door and stepped inside the shop. She heard footsteps on the stairs as the bell above the door announced Louisa's presence.

"How can I help - oh, Mrs. Ellingham!" Mrs. Tishell said as she came around to stand behind the counter. "What can I do for you?" She ran her fingers through her short hair, trying to give it some extra volume.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Tishell," Louisa replied in her most polite voice. She pulled out Martin's prescription and pushed it across the glass countertop. "I just need this filled."

Mrs. Tishell picked up the piece of paper and held it at arms length to examine it. "Is Doctor Ellingham not feeling well?" she asked in a sympathetic tone.

Louisa glanced towards the nappy display. "There was a bit of a mishap this morning."

Mrs. Tishell gazed back at Louisa askance. "Oh, I see."

Louisa tightened her grip on the strap of her purse. "Yeah, he's in a bit of pain, so if you could fill his prescription that would be lovely." She forced a smile.

"Oh, of course, of course." She turned towards the cabinets to her right and plucked out a small, rectangular packet. "Sorry to hear our good doctor is feeling under the weather." She glanced up at Louisa as she started filling a bottle with pills. "On your way from school, I suppose?"

"No, we just got back from the hospital actually. Martin's at home resting."

"Hospital? Oh, dear."

"It's not serious. His shoulder's just a bit sore."

"Maybe I can stop by later today and see how Doctor Ellingham's doing?" Mrs. Tishell asked as she handed Louisa the bag with Martin's prescriptions. "Maybe drop off a casserole?"

Louisa forced another smile while opening her pocketbook and handing over two ten-pound notes. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Tishell, but Martin needs his rest."

"Right." Mrs. Tishell smiled as she handed Louisa her change. "Lovely seeing you, Mrs. Ellingham."

"Bye, Mrs. Tishell. Give my regards to Clive. I hear he's been doing well."

Mrs. Tishell perked up at the mention of her husband. "Yes, thank you. He is doing very well."

"Good." Louisa gave the woman one more forced smile before turning and leaving the shop.

When she returned home from the pharmacy, Louisa found Martin fast asleep in their bed. He was in the same position as she'd left him, except his head was slumped over on his left shoulder. She placed the bag with his prescriptions on his nightstand then brushed her fingers over the top of his head. Kissing his bruised forehead, she pulled a blanket over his legs than climbed into bed next to him. Lying on her side, she watched him sleep until after a while her eyelids grew heavy and eventually, Louisa drifted off to sleep as well.


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry for the very long wait everyone! I've been on vacation again the past couple of weeks. But now that I'm back home to real life I've been trying to get this chapter written as quick as possible. I hope you all enjoy it!**

Chapter Twenty-five

The following morning, Louisa woke to the unpleasant sound of her husband's groans coming from the bathroom. She rolled her eyes, remembering the warning she gave him the previous night about overdoing things. He could be very stubborn at times, her as well, but with his injured shoulder he was even more irritable than normal, especially when he was ordered not to work for a week.

"Dammit!" she heard him shout from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Martin, are you alright?" Louisa asked as she pulled back the sheets and slipped out of bed, concerned that he might be causing himself further injury.

"No!" he exclaimed. "I'm bloody not alright!"

"Martin, please watch your language. I'm coming in." She opened the door and stepped inside the bathroom. He was standing in front of the sink, his back to her, with his white dress shirt hanging open. "Do you need help?"

He didn't turn to look at her. "No!"

Louisa rolled her eyes. "Stop being stubborn, Martin. Is it your shoulder? Does it hurt too much?"

Martin let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not a child, Louisa. I can handle a little pain and discomfort."

Louisa furrowed her brow, having an idea of what seemed to be angering him. "Then what is it? Martin, I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't need any help!" he spat out while attempting to button his shirt for the third time.

Louisa crossed her arms. "You don't need help? Okay, so should I expect to see this new look of yours from now on?" she asked, nodding towards the reflection of his open shirt in the mirror. "It does suit you, but I might get a bit jealous if you walked around the village looking like that." She smiled and stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Martin stared at her through the mirror, feeling his anger and frustration begin to subside at her closeness. Her fingers brushed the exposed skin of his abdomen, sending a shiver down his spine. Noticing the dilated pupils in his reflection, he forced his carnal thoughts to the back of his mind. This was hardly the place or time for that. Instead, he turned around to face her. "I can't get my shirt buttoned without my shoulder throbbing," he finally admitted.

Louisa smiled up at him. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Mm."

"So what are your plans for today since you can't see patients for a week?" Louisa asked as she began buttoning his shirt.

"I don't know," he said, gazing down at her fingers as she worked each button through its corresponding hole. "I was, um, planning on going with you to drop James off at school."

Louisa finished with the second to last button at the top, leaving the collar of his shirt open. She secured his navy cufflinks then patted his chest. "There, all done." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Are you sure you're well enough to come with, Martin? The sun's finally out today and I planned on walking with James to school. But if you think you can manage, then of course you can come along. James and I would really like that."

The corners of Martin's mouth twitched. "Good." He looked down at his shirt, then shyly glanced up at his wife. "Um, could you help me with my tie as well?"

Louisa would have preferred that he didn't wear a tie, but she didn't want to argue with him, especially when his mood was so unpredictable. "Of course. Which one?" she asked while leading the way to his wardrobe.

"Um, why don't you choose? You always pick the ones that match my eyes."

Louisa smiled at him then turned to look at his vast array of ties. She chose the striped red one, which was her favourite. "This is my favourite," she said as she looped the material around his neck then turned up his collar.

"I didn't know you could tie a tie," Martin said as he watched his wife deftly work the silk material into his customary Windsor knot.

Louisa nodded. "Dad taught me - years ago. I'm surprised I still remember."

She didn't elaborate, so Martin didn't press her for further details, suspecting that the subject of her father was still a sensitive topic for her. "Well, he, um, taught you well."

Louisa fastened the final button before folding the collar of his shirt down, then straightening his tie. "And I know you'll be the one to teach James."

"Mm, yes." Her comment sparked something in him. In the years to come, he could imagine all the things he would teach his son that his own father had not; it caused a small smile to form.

"What?" Louisa asked, noticing her husband drifting away in his own thoughts.

"Hmm?" He returned his gaze to hers.

"What are you thinking about?"

He shook his head, feeling flustered that she caught him off guard. "Nothing. I - it's nothing."

Louisa let his clumsy answer slip by. He looked content, even happy, and that was all she needed. "The navy suit?" she asked, looking down at his dark trousers.

"Yes."

Louisa was gentle with his right arm as she slipped the jacket over his shoulders. After buttoning his suit, she smoothed her fingers over the lapels. "There we go. As handsome as always."

Her comment caused a slight blush to creep out across his cheeks and to the tip of his ears. "Could you help me with the sling as well?" He looked down at his stockinged feet, feeling embarrassed.

"Of course."

"I hate to make you do this," Martin said as Louisa fastened the straps of the sling around his right shoulder and arm.

"I don't mind. I enjoy doing things for you, Martin."

"I appreciate it and, um, everything that you do for me."

Louisa's smile widened. "Oh, Martin."

"I mean it. You do so much for our family that it gets overlooked."

"Thank you for saying that."

"Mm," he grunted, "you're welcome."

"I should shower and get dressed," Louisa said as she looked down at her pyjamas.

Martin nodded. "I'll get James ready, then."

"Yes, thank you." He turned to leave but Louisa stopped him. "Hey, come here." She took hold of his hand and pulled him back to her. Leaning up on her toes, Louisa captured his lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. "Good morning . . . husband."

Martin smiled, liking this new ritual of theirs. "Good morning . . . Mrs. Ellingham."

"I shouldn't be too long," she said, giving his hand a squeeze then releasing it.

Martin nodded and remained frozen in place as he watched his wife saunter away to the bathroom. The fingers of his left hand twitched at his side as he thought of her enticing curves. But then the sound of the shower running snapped him out of his daze. Giving one last lingering look towards the bathroom, he finally turned and headed for the nursery to begin his fatherly duties.

A short time later, the Ellingham family began their trek to the nursery school. With his good arm, Martin had carried James down Roscarrock Hill but then set him on his feet once they reached the Platt. Mesmerized by the shining sea in the harbour and the boisterous fishermen readying their pots, James let out a squeal and ran towards the water.

"Martin!" Louisa shouted as soon as she noticed their little boy scurry off on his own. "Grab James!" She grew panicked as she followed Martin, the two of them hurrying after their son, afraid he could be swept away with the tide. But thankfully one of the fisherman scooped the toddler up before he could make it to the water.

James let out another squeal as he was swept up into the air, but then started to cry as he realised he was in the arms of a total stranger. "This one yours?" the bearded fisherman asked, seeing two frantic parents rushing towards him.

Louisa took James into her arms and squeezed him tightly, relief coursing through her now that her little boy was safe. "Oh, thank you for getting to him before the sea did."

The fisherman bowed his head. "No problem, miss. Looks like he may have his sea legs. Best watch out for this one." He poked and tickled James' stomach.

Louisa chuckled while Martin frowned. "I guess we'll have to. Thanks again for your help." She waved to the fisherman as he continued on with his work.

"Is he alright?" Martin asked as he turned to look at James.

Louisa kissed the top of their boy's head. "He seems fine." Then she looked down at her son, scolding him, "James Henry, you cannot go running off like that on your own. Mummy and Daddy were very worried that something could've happened to you."

James stared up at his mother with a confused expression, a few tears staining his cheeks, not quite understanding what she was saying. He reached up and grabbed a strand of her loose hair. "Mum-ee!" he cried.

Louisa nodded. "Yes, James, Mummy was very worried. You need to stay with either me or Daddy, okay? No running off on your own."

"Da-ee!" the toddler squealed as he reached out for his father.

Martin touched his son's cheek as Louisa set him back down on his feet. They continued their walk to the nursery school, with James between them, each holding one of his hands in case he tried to run off again.

Today being his third day of school, James was a little more comfortable being separated from his parents. As soon as he heard the sounds of the other children, he'd squeal and clap his hands in delight. It brought a smile to Louisa's face, happy to see that their little boy wasn't afraid to interact and have fun with other children his age.

She watched as her husband bent down on one knee in the lobby to hug James. He brushed his hand over their son's head and James placed his palm on his father's nose. He giggled as Martin pretended to sneeze.

Not leaving her forgotten, James rushed over to Louisa and threw his arms around her legs. Bending over, she hoisted him into her arms, planting a big kiss on his cheek. "Bye, bye, sweetheart," she said, hugging his small body tightly. James returned her hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Closing her eyes and inhaling the scent of her son's bath soap, Louisa wished they could have stayed like that forever. She cherished the moment, hoping that no matter at what age, James would always welcome a hug and kiss from his mother.

"Alright, be on your best behaviour, young man," she said, setting a wriggling James back down on his feet then playfully patting his bum. "I'll be back in a little while."

Martin awkwardly stood up, the sling immobilizing his right arm affecting his centre of balance. "Um, Louisa," he said while they waited for one of the teachers to arrive. "Do you think I could collect James later today?"

Louisa was caught off guard by his request. "Are you sure, Martin? I mean, won't it put more strain on your healing shoulder having to carry James all the way home?"

"I can bring his pushchair. He hasn't outgrown it yet."

Louisa smiled at him. "Hmm, I see you've thought this through, then."

"I want to do this. It'll give you more time for lunch and to get more work done at the school - if you need it."

"Okay. Sounds reasonable to me."

"Thank you. I was thinking that on the way home James and I could stop at the beach and have lunch. Maybe, if you're not too busy, you could join us?"

He sounded hesitant as he asked her, reminiscent of the few times he had asked her over for dinner in the beginning of their relationship. But Louisa was thrilled. It would be just the three of them. With Martin on leave for a week there wouldn't be any patients or nosy receptionists to interrupt them. "I'd love to, Martin. How can I say no to lunch with my two boys?"

Martin smiled slightly, happy that she accepted his invitation. "Um, I can bring something along for James and myself if you've already packed your lunch for the day."

Louisa nodded as one of the teachers approached them to take James to his designated classroom. The couple waved to their son as he turned to take his teacher's hand then disappeared down the hallway.

Martin accompanied his wife the rest of the way to the primary school. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" she asked as they stood outside the front entrance.

Martin shook his head. "No, I have some work I need to get done back at the surgery - paperwork, that sort of thing."

"I see."

They remained silent and unmoving, staring at each other. Glancing over towards the gate of the school, he made sure nobody was watching them. And like a hesitant man on a date ready to say goodnight, Martin leaned down and embraced his wife in a soft, somewhat-passionate kiss.

"You're just full of surprises today," Louisa said as they pulled away from each other.

"Mm. I'm trying to be a better husband - the sort of husband you deserve."

Louisa ran her fingers down his cheek. "And you do deserve me, Martin - no matter what."

Martin took hold of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "I love -" Suddenly, they were interrupted by children's laughter as a large group came barreling through the gate towards the entrance.

Martin stepped back as one boy rushed past them into the school. "I should probably go," Louisa said, now that their intimate moment was over.

"Yes. Right. Um, have a good day." Before she could say something more, he turned and headed for the gate, dodging children left and right.

"I'll see you later," she called out to him, unsure if he heard her or not. Biting her lip, she fished her phone out of her purse.

As Martin finally escaped the hordes of bustling schoolchildren, he felt his mobile vibrate against the side of his chest. He pulled out his phone and smiled to himself, reading the text message from his wife: _I love you too_

When Martin returned back to the surgery, Morwenna was all smiles as he walked past her towards his consulting room. He had no idea why she was so happy. Women usually confused him, especially Louisa.

Sitting down behind his desk, Martin began going through the notes of the patients that were scheduled for the rest of the week. He'd instructed Morwenna to transfer his patients to Wadebridge until he was cleared to resume work again. For now, he was stuck familiarising himself with medical histories.

A little while later, as Martin scanned through his diary, he noticed he'd written down the welcome back party Louisa had planned for Elliot, which was tomorrow. Now that he was unable to see patients for a week, he felt obligated that he stop by, at least for a few minutes. Then he remembered Elliot's condition. Picking up the phone, he called the hospital in Truro to have Mr. Keane's latest EEG results and MRI scans be sent over as a follow up as soon as possible. The last thing he wanted was another Mr. Strain incident.

Looking down at his watch, he frowned. It was only ten o'clock and already he was growing bored. Without any whinging patients to examine or an energetic toddler to look after, Martin was at a complete loss over what to do. Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out a stack of old medical journals. There was bound to be an article that would grab his attention.

. . .

At lunch, Martin sent another text message to Louisa while he and James waited for her by the gate. A moment later, his phone chirped, her message relaying that she'd be out in a few minutes.

It was a pleasant afternoon; a bit of a cool breeze but plenty of sun, unlike the past week. He looked over at the harbour and the expanse of sparkling blue water. There wasn't a more beautiful view than that. Though at times he missed the hustle and bustle of a big city like London, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

"Hello!"

Hearing his wife's voice, Martin turned to look at her. Her coat was unbuttoned and the ends flapped wildly in the breeze as she made her way towards him. With the sun shining overhead, she looked so beautiful that he thought he might have felt his heart skip a beat. He raised his left hand in greeting.

"Hello, James," Louisa gushed as she knelt in front of their son. "Did you have fun at school?"

James reached out for her but was restricted by the safety strap of the pushchair keeping him in place. "Mum-ee!"

Louisa leaned forward and kissed her son's nose, making him giggle. Standing back up, she addressed her husband, "How was your morning?"

Martin held his left hand behind his back. "It was fine."

Louisa arched an eyebrow. "Staying busy I hope?"

"Mm," he nodded. "Um, shall we?" He extended a hand towards the harbour.

"Yes." Slinging her school bag over her shoulder, they began their walk to the beach.

Martin had brought along a blanket to go with their lunch, so after finding a decent spot, they were able to set up their picnic. James was full of energy, not wanting to sit still, preferring to chase the gulls and play in the sand.

When Martin was finally able to get his son to sit and eat his lunch, Buddy scampered up out of nowhere and playfully licked James' cheek. The toddler laughed and swatted at the dog, attempting to pet his furry head.

"How disgusting!" Martin sneered as he shooed the canine away with a chunk of turkey then wiped the slobber from his son's face with his handkerchief.

"It's just a dog, Martin," Louisa tried to assure him.

"It's a disgusting, flea-ridden creature. Who knows how many germs were transferred to James."

Louisa rolled her eyes. "James is just fine. He likes Buddy, don't you sweetheart?" James looked up at his mother and gave her a toothy smile. She swiped her fingers through his short hair.

"Louisa, dogs and other household pets can be notorious carriers of disease. Remember a few years ago when that other _dog_ caused an epidemic in the school?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And you almost ruined my chances of getting the head teaching position."

"You kept allowing the infected children to go to school," he argued. "What was I supposed to do?"

Louisa turned to look at him. "I wish you would have came to my celebration at the pub that night."

Martin ducked his head as he picked at the edge of a fingernail. "Mm, yes. I wanted to, but something came up."

She reached for his hand and Martin curled his fingers around hers. "It's okay. That was the past. Right now, I'm just happy you're here with me - us." She pointed towards James, who was a few feet away from their blanket digging in the sand with a shell.

"Yes." He tightened his grip on her hand as they watched their son. "He's growing too fast."

Louisa shifted closer to him on the blanket and let her head rest on his left shoulder. "I know. I still remember how it felt to hold him in my arms for the first time. Now he's almost two years old. Can you believe that?"

Martin was quiet for a few moments. "I'm glad I stayed," he said, looking over at James in adoration.

"What do you mean?"

He glanced down at her. "Here - in Portwenn. I'm glad I didn't leave for London. I would have missed moments like this - the three of us together."

Louisa brushed a finger over his wedding band and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you stayed too."

Despite the amount of people exploring the beach, Martin allowed his head to dip to the side to rest against Louisa's. Though he was still hesitant about public displays of affection, he found that he couldn't help himself, especially where Louisa was concerned. Her ponytail waved in the breeze, the long strands tickling the back of his neck. He pulled away to look at her.

"What?" she said, feeling unnerved by the intense expression on his face.

He shook his head. "You're just . . ." His voice trailed off as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're so beautiful."

Louisa closed her eyes, feeling the tears she'd been trying to hold back roll down her cheeks.

"Don't cry," Martin said, feeling his heart sink that he may have ruined their afternoon.

She wiped her eyes with the back of a finger and shook her head. "I'm just so happy, Martin."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes, I am." Wrapping her arms around his neck, Louisa pulled him to her and kissed him.

Her actions surprised him, but Martin quickly relaxed, even though they were surrounded by potential onlookers. Bugger it, he thought. He was with the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. Let the others be jealous for once.

Louisa let out a long breath once they pulled apart. She turned to quickly check on James. He was still busy playing in the sand, oblivious to his parents. "Promise me something?" she said, looking back at Martin and gazing deep into his eyes.

Martin nodded, his voice husky as he replied, "Anything."

"Promise me that in the future, no matter how much we argue or fight, you'll always remember these moments, Martin - the happy ones."

Martin swallowed hard. Why was she talking like this? he wondered. "Okay. I promise."

Louisa smiled and reached up to run her finger over his eyebrow, following the curve to his temple. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Wrapping his left arm around her waist, Martin called out to their son, "James! C'mon, it's time to leave soon!"

Hearing his father's voice, James looked up from his fun in the sand. He stood up and rushed over to his parents, flopping down in Martin's lap and looking up at him with a wide, toothy grin.

Martin returned his son's smile. Glancing over at his wife then looking out at the ocean, Martin was absolutely sure that there wasn't any other place in the world he'd rather be than Portwenn.


	26. Chapter 26

**Your guys' comments from last chapter made my week - I truly enjoyed them, thank you! I too am hoping for some of those family moments in the new series -I can hardly wait. I hope you all enjoy this one!**

Chapter Twenty-six

As Martin pushed James up Roscarrock Hill, he couldn't get the image of his wife's smiling face out of his head, remembering when they parted ways at the Platt just minutes earlier. He could still feel her lips on his skin as she had kissed his cheek before turning and heading back to the school.

He tried focusing his energy on getting James up the hill, but it was more strenuous having to use one arm.

"Doc!"

Martin stopped and turned around, seeing Janice coming up the hill behind him.

"Need some help?" the girl asked as she came to a stop beside him, hooking her thumbs around the straps of her backpack.

Martin hesitated. He hated having to rely on someone else, but he remembered his frustration earlier this morning in the bathroom and how he and Louisa almost ended up in a row. "Um, yes. Thank you." He handed the pushchair over to the childminder and the two silently finished the short walk up to the surgery.

Upon entering the kitchen from the back door, Janice unbuckled James and picked him up. "Da-ee!" James cried with arms outstretched.

Martin took hold of his son and walked over to the living room. He sat down on the sofa and James immediately cuddled up to his chest.

Janice stood idly on the top step of the kitchen, uncertain whether to join the doctor. "I heard about what happened with your shoulder," she said almost timidly.

Martin snapped his head up at the girl's comment. "How?" He could hear the anger in his voice and instantly regretted it.

"Joe told me. He was supposed to drive you to the hospital but Louisa did instead . . ." She paused to look down at her hands. "Um, I hope you're feeling better - your shoulder, I mean."

Martin glanced down at James, who had tugged a bit too hard on his left ear. "Yes," he answered as he pried his son's fingers from the side of his head. He cleared his throat. He always felt awkward around Janice, never knowing quite what to say. "It gets better with each day."

"Can I join you?" Janice asked, gesturing towards James. "Or are my services not needed since you're here?"

"No," he stammered, "I mean, of course you can watch him. I have to check on something with Morwenna." He started to stand up but James protested, clinging on to his left wrist, which was still a bit tender. Martin tried not to grimace.

Janice rushed over and scooped up James, relieving Martin from further injury. The two sat down on the floor but James continued to wriggle and squirm, wanting to stay with his father.

Martin reached down and brushed the fingers of his left hand over his son's head. "I'll be back, James, don't worry." With a slight smile, he turned and left the room, heading to reception.

"Which one of your toys should we play with first?" Janice asked the toddler once they were left alone.

As Martin stepped into the waiting room, Morwenna looked up from the magazine she was reading. "How was lunch?" she asked, giving him a wide smile.

"It was fine," Martin said, not wanting to give too much away.

Morwenna knew he was omitting certain details. She didn't want to be the one to put him in a bad mood by questioning him. "The hospital in Truro faxed over those results you wanted." She handed him a few sheets of paper.

"Thank you," Martin said as he looked over the documents. "The MRI scans didn't come yet?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

Morwenna shook her head. "No. They said they'd have them here by tomorrow morning."

"Useless," Martin muttered to himself.

"Doc, if you aren't seeing patients for a while, why do you need those test results?"

"It's none of your concern. This is between me and a patient."

"Okay. Is there anything else I can do besides answer the phone?"

Martin sighed. "Why don't you head on home? I can answer the phone if need be."

Morwenna smiled. "Thanks, Doc. Could I maybe stay for a bit and talk with Janice - spend some time with James?"

Martin let out another sigh. He felt as if his son was becoming an art exhibit. He noticed that whenever he and Louisa went out together many of the villagers would stop and gush over James, irritating him to no end. But he began to think of Morwenna as more than just one of the villagers. "Yes, that would be fine, as long as you keep the noise to a minimum."

Morwenna's smile widened even further. "You bet, Doc! Thanks!" She gave him a little wave as she rushed past him towards the living room.

Finally alone in his consulting room, Martin sat down behind his desk to get a better look at Elliot's latest EEG results.

Later that evening, after Louisa finished brushing her teeth she moved across the hall to check on Martin and James. Peering around the semi-open door, she smiled, seeing her husband read to their son from a medical journal. He hadn't read from one of his journals in a while, usually opting for one of the many children's books she insisted on. "Is he asleep yet?" she asked, quietly stepping into the room.

Martin looked up at her then down at James, who was half asleep. "Mm, almost."

Louisa peered over Martin's shoulder and instantly wished she hadn't. "Are you sure James likes this?" She pointed to the picture of what looked to be an actual human heart.

"We were just getting to the good part," he said in what sounded like a pout. "It puts him to sleep much quicker than his children's books do."

Louisa grimaced. "Let's just hope it doesn't give him nightmares."

Martin let out a derisive snort. "Nonsense. The human heart is nothing to be afraid of. Heart disease, on the other hand . . ." He let his comment trail off as he closed his medical journal and set it aside. Standing up slowly so as not to wake James, Martin handed him over to Louisa, who gently laid him down in his cot. Martin placed the back of his good hand against James' forehead before pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Goodnight, James," he said softly, the corners of his mouth curving into a slight smile.

When Martin emerged from the bathroom in his pyjamas, he found Louisa lying on his side of the bed. "Experimenting with my side of the bed?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Louisa patted the empty space next to her. "I thought that with your sore shoulder it would be better that I snuggle up to your good side."

"I see." Sliding into bed, Martin carefully leaned back against the propped pillows.

Leaning over him, Louisa slid an extra pillow under his right arm to support his shoulder. "There. Is that better?" He nodded. "Good." Shifting closer, she snuggled up to Martin's left side and he curled his arm around her as she let her head rest against his collarbone. "Mm, this is nice," she said, nuzzling her cheek against the soft material of his pyjama top.

Martin let his fingers glide through her long hair as they laid in silence. "Are you still having that party for, um, Mr. Keane, that teacher friend of yours?" he finally asked.

Louisa smoothed a hand over his chest. "Mmhmm, why?"

"Um, I was planning on stopping by for a few minutes - if that's okay with you?" He turned his head to look at her.

Louisa smiled. "Of course you can come."

"Mm," he grunted, sliding his left hand down her arm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she yawned. "Now go to sleep, Martin. You need your rest." Turning and reaching over, she clicked off the bedside lamp.

"Yes." He continued to gaze at her once she closed her eyes, feeling mesmerized by her beauty, even with the room in complete darkness.

Without opening her eyes she said, "I mean it, Martin, go to sleep."

He smiled, thinking how well she knew him. Giving her arm a gentle squeeze, Martin finally relaxed against the pillows and closed his eyes, shortly drifting off to sleep.

. . .

The next morning, Martin was up early, waiting for the post to arrive. He was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his espresso, his medical journal neatly laid out in front of him. He'd managed to button his shirt by himself but would need Louisa's help with his tie and sling once she was up. Checking his watch again, he began to grow impatient.

Finally, there was a knock on the door and Martin quickly stood up, the legs of his chair scraping against the linoleum floor.

"Doctor Ellingham?" the Postman questioned once the front door was opened.

"Yes," Martin replied as he took the large manila envelope as well as the rest of the post. Before he could close the door, the Postman stopped him.

"Seeing as I've got you here, Doc, would you mind taking a look at my neck?" he asked. "Been itchin' like crazy the past few days." The man scratched and tugged at his collar.

Martin scrunched his nose as he noticed a red rash, visible above the collar of the Postman's jacket. "No!" he exclaimed, drawing out the word. "Go to Wadebridge. I won't be seeing patients until next week, so until then try not to scratch it."

"Oh, okay," the Postman nodded as he turned to leave.

"And wash your hands before you resume your deliveries," Martin called after the postal worker, then shut the door. Looking down at the envelopes in his hand, he curled his lip in disgust and headed to his consulting room.

After washing his hands and snapping on a pair of gloves, Martin opened the large manila envelope first. He held the MRI scans up to the light coming through the window, studying the two brain images and comparing them.

"Martin?"

He turned around to find Louisa standing in the doorway, clad in her dressing gown, with James perched in her arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

"Just looking over some MRI scans," he answered, not moving a muscle.

"Oh." She gave him a confused look. "But why are you wearing gloves?"

Martin glanced at his latex-covered fingers then back to Louisa. "Um, the Postman has a fairly disturbing rash and I'd rather not take any chances that it could be contagious."

"You examined him?"

"No, of course not! I told him to go to Wadebridge."

"I see." Louisa looked more closely at the magnetic images of some patient's brain. "Those aren't Elliot's pictures, are they, Martin?" she asked, remembering her colleague's medical condition.

Martin's eyes widened. He had hoped to keep his little "investigation" under wraps. "Um, I can't divulge that sort of information -"

Louisa assumed she must be correct given Martin's hesitation. "Patient confidentiality, I know." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And were you planning to tell me about your little investigation?"

Martin set the images down on his desk. "Louisa, this doesn't concern you . . ."

"Of course it does!" she snapped back, her voice rising. "He's one of the teachers at my school and he's coming back today!" She lowered her voice and glared back at him. "You never liked him anyway."

"Louisa, we've discussed this. The man was delusional. He threatened you . . . and me. I had no idea he had a brain tumour. But look," he hesitated for a moment as he picked up the two images and held them up to the light, "the tumour's gone." He pointed at the frontal lobe of Elliot's brain. "No sign of any growth over the last four weeks. He's fine."

Louisa stared at the transparent images then glanced over at her husband. "You're absolutely sure he's okay?" she questioned, her anger seeming to subside.

Martin nodded. "Yes."

Louisa's features softened. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. But why didn't you tell me about all this?" She gestured to the scans in his hand.

"I, um, didn't want you to worry. If something happened to you . . . It's my responsibility to care for my patients and see that they're healthy. I'd be a poor excuse of a doctor . . . and husband if I let a neurologically-impaired patient harm you as well as himself." Martin looked over at James. "It kept reminding me of when you were pregnant with James, and that insane Mr. What's It, the headmaster - how he almost hurt you . . . and James."

Louisa could feel her emotions running rampant. He really did care. She was just disappointed that he kept his findings a secret from her. "Thank you for saying that, Martin," she said as she brushed a hand over her son's head. "I was reminded of Mr. Strain as well; it still makes me shudder. But I have you." She adjusted James with one arm and reached out with the other to take Martin's hand. "The most loving and protective man I know." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Martin laced their fingers together and tightened his grip on her hand, not wanting to let go. "You know you mean everything to me, Louisa - you and James."

Louisa could feel the tears forming but held them back. "I know. And you mean so much to me." She stepped forward and embraced him, burying her face in his chest. "My extraordinary man," she said softly, glancing up at him with a smile.

Wrapping his arm around her, Martin returned her smile. He loved it whenever she said that: _My extraordinary man._ It made him feel wanted . . . and loved, especially by her. "Am I still invited to the party you have planned at the school?"

"Yes, of course. I'm glad you want to come."

"Mm. I seem to have a little extra time on my hands as of late."

James began to whimper at being stuck in between his parents. Louisa pulled away from Martin and looked at his right arm, sling-free. She remembered when she was in the same boat. They'd come so far since then. "Could you get James dressed while I shower?" she asked.

"Yes." He abandoned Elliot's results to follow Louisa towards the stairs.

"You know, I rather enjoy seeing you without a tie."

The corners of Martin's mouth twitched. "That's too bad, because I was rather looking forward to my wife tying it for me, maybe learn a thing or two."

"Is that so?" Louisa smiled, glancing back at him as they walked up the stairs.

"Mm. She's a very good teacher."

Louisa couldn't contain her happiness any longer. She let out a laugh and turned around when they were at the landing. She pressed her lips to his in a firm but lingering kiss. "Morning . . . husband," she said after they pulled apart.

"Good morning . . . Mrs. Ellingham." He placed his left hand on his son's head, who was still perched in his mother's arms. "Morning, James."

"Da-ee!" the young Ellingham squealed.

Martin took James from Louisa and headed for the nursery to get him dressed. Louisa remained frozen in place as she watched her husband retreat to their son's room, a hint of a smile etched on his lips. She already began to forget about the near-row they had in his office. Entering their room with an extra bounce in her step, Louisa had a feeling that today was going to be a good day - for both of them.

. . .

"Thank you so much, Louisa," Elliot said as he gathered all of the welcome back cards the kids had made for him.

"You're welcome," she replied. "We're glad to have you back and to your old self again."

Elliot chuckled. "You can say that again. I haven't felt this good in a long time."

Louisa smiled. Unsure of how to respond, she looked over at the kids, who were bunched together in groups playing games. Glancing down at her wristwatch, she began to wonder what was keeping Martin. He said he'd stop by but didn't give a specific time.

"How's your little boy doing?" Elliot asked out of the blue.

Louisa turned to look at him, feeling distracted. "Oh, he's good. Growing much too fast for my liking."

"Yeah, kids will do that to ya - not that I speak from experience," he stammered, "but as a teacher you notice."

"Yeah."

Just then, Pippa Woodley hurried into the classroom heading straight for Louisa.

"He's here," Pippa whispered next to Louisa's ear.

"You mean, Martin?" Pippa nodded and Louisa took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Okay."

A few moments later, Martin strolled through the door of the classroom, all heads turning in his direction. He immediately sought out his wife, finally finding her gaze amongst the students and teachers present.

"Martin!" Louisa called out, waving him over.

"Hello," he said as he approached her.

"I'm glad you're here," she smiled at him.

Martin nodded. "I hope I'm not too late."

"No, you're just fine."

"Martin, my man!" Elliot exclaimed as he came up beside the doctor and slapped a friendly hand over his back.

Martin turned to look at the teacher and frowned.

"Sorry, Doctor Ellingham - I forgot."

"Have you been drinking?" Martin asked, still frowning at Elliot's boisterous behaviour.

Elliot furrowed his brow. "No, of course not."

"Oh. I just wondered."

"Glad you could be here, mate." Elliot gave Martin another friendly pat on the back.

"Mm. It's only for a few minutes. I have some business to attend to this morning."

"What business?" Louisa asked, jumping into the conversation once Elliot shuffled over to the refreshments table.

"Ruth," he whispered to her.

"Oh." She raised her eyebrows, giving him a you-didn't-say-anything-about-that look. He tilted his head to the side, perplexed as to why she seemed angry.

"Hey, what happened to your arm?" asked Elliot as he returned with a paper cup of fruit juice, gesturing towards the sling supporting the doctor's arm.

Martin tried to refrain his displeasure of small talk. "Dislocated shoulder."

"Ah. Well, I'm forever grateful to you for helping to save my life."

This time Martin couldn't contain his irritation any longer. "Mm, yes. You're welcome," he replied in his brusque manner. "Louisa?" He looked to his wife, pleading with her for an escape.

"Why don't you fetch some more napkins?" Louisa asked him, understanding his discomfort in social situations. "I have an extra package in my office under my desk."

Martin nodded and squeezed through the groups of students on his way out of the room.

"He hasn't changed much, has he?" Elliot said once Martin left. He moved over to Louisa's side at the refreshments table.

"No, he has - a little at a time."

"I'm sure, but still not one for socializing, eh?"

Louisa whirled around to face Elliot. "It doesn't matter to me, Elliot," she said, her tone low and cross. "I'm happy with Martin the way he his. He's doing his best to change - for me. Because I know he loves me, and I him."

Elliot's smug expression turned to embarrassment. "Louisa, I'm sorry," he apologised, placing a hand on her forearm.

Louisa flinched at the contact and pulled her arm away. She felt a hand snake around her waist, and she turned to see Martin standing behind her, his face screwed into a tight frown and the package of napkins tucked under the sling of his right arm. "Martin," she breathed out, relieved he came to her rescue.

"The napkins," he said, pulling his arm from her waist to hand her the package.

"Thank you." She opened it and placed the stack on the table next to a platter of chocolate biscuits.

"You're welcome," he mumbled, sliding his good arm back around her waist in a protective manner.

Louisa kept her demeanor calm but on the inside she was beaming with happiness that her husband blatantly displayed their relationship in front of her fellow colleagues and students.

Elliot downed the rest of the juice from his paper cup before addressing Martin, "Oh, Martin, I was just saying to Louisa how -"

"How much I dislike fraternising with those I find less intelligent than myself?" He paused as Elliot's eyes grew wide. "Yes, I overheard what you said. But Louisa's right; I'm doing my best to change - for her." Martin glanced down at his wife, who's eyes sparkled with pride. "And she put a lot of work into putting together this party - all for you because she cares. So I would show a little more respect for the headmistress, _Mr. Keane_."

Elliot nodded. "You're right, Doctor Ellingham. I apologise, Louisa. I don't want to revert back to my inappropriate behaviour from when I was sick. I really like it here - all the people, the school - and I'd hate to have to leave because of my actions."

"Elliot," Louisa began, "I really do like you, as a teacher and friend, but that's all we can be outside of class - friends." She placed a hand on Martin's chest and smiled when she felt his arm tighten around her waist.

Elliot glanced down at his expensive shoes then back up to the couple. "Of course." He forced a smile. "I hope we can be friends as well, Doc."

"Mm," Martin grunted, "as long as you remain professional with my wife, I think that would be acceptable."

Elliot grinned, detecting a slight smile from the taciturn doctor. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. And Louisa, especially for the party."

"You're welcome."

"I'll be around to help with the cleanup afterwards," Elliot said to Louisa. "And, Martin, hope to see you around sometime - just not in the hospital, right?" He flashed another smile and stuck out his left arm.

Martin awkwardly shook the teacher's hand. "Right." As Elliot turned to mingle with a group of students, Martin turned to face Louisa. "Um, I should be going. I want to catch Ruth before she wanders off somewhere with Al and can't be reached."

Louisa nodded. "I'll walk you out."

They stopped at the gate of the school and Louisa reached out for his left hand. "Thank you for coming, Martin. It meant a lot to me."

Martin gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome."

"And, um, thank you for what you said back there - to Elliot; that was very sweet of you."

Martin glanced away for a moment, feeling embarrassed by her use of the word _sweet_. "I meant what I said - all of it."

Louisa stepped closer to him, their chests almost touching. "I know you did."

"I appreciate you, um, defending me and everything, but I'm fairly capable of fighting my own battles, so to speak."

"Martin, I defend you because you're my husband. I know you'd do the same, and you did; what you said to Elliot was very chivalrous of you."

"Mm. Even tumour-free the man's still an arse."

Louisa chuckled. "So all that stuff you said about being friends was just to humour him?"

Martin tilted his head to the side, thinking. "In a way, yes. But maybe someday down the line we can be friends, or at least tolerate each other better."

Letting go of his hand, Louisa reached up to straighten his tie. "Good." She smoothed her hands down the front of his dark overcoat. "I should get back inside. Class resumes in less than an hour and I have the party to cleanup."

"Of course. I should head on over to Ruth's before it's too late."

Louisa nodded, trusting him to confide in her once she returned home from work. "Okay, I'll see you later." She kissed his cheek then stepped back.

"Mm, yes." He smiled down at her for a moment before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of Ruth's cottage.

Arriving at his aunt's front door a short time later, Martin rapped loudly a few times before the door was pulled open.

"Oh, Martin!" Ruth exclaimed, surprised to see her nephew standing out on her terrace.

"Morning. I was just on my way back from the school and thought I'd drop by to see how you're doing."

Ruth raised her eyebrows, not quite believing that he would willingly stop by just to check on her well-being. "Come in."

As Martin stepped inside the cottage he noticed his aunt had a familiar visitor.

"Hello, Doc," Mr. Hammond said from his spot on the sofa.

"Mm, hello."

"I assume you two know each other, then?" Ruth asked as she moved towards the kitchen.

Martin nodded. "Yes. How's your hand doing Mr., um . . . Hammond?"

Mr. Hammond held up his hand, showing the doctor the black stitches that made a parabola across his palm. "Doing good. Been keeping it clean like ya told me to."

"Good." Martin continued to linger in the entryway until his aunt returned from the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

"Here, Martin," she said, handing him the cup of steaming brew. "Come, sit down." She nudged him towards the sofa but he elected to sit in the high-backed chair instead. "So what brings you by?" she asked her nephew, taking a seat at her desk and crossing her legs at the ankle.

Martin shook his head. "Nothing much, just wanted to see how you've been doing, that's all."

"Hmm. Well it's good to see you, too. How are Louisa and James?"

Martin turned a tentative gaze towards Mr. Hammond, who was silently sipping his cup of coffee. "They're fine . . . good, actually."

"That's good."

"Um, how do you two know each other?" Martin asked, gesturing back and forth between his aunt and her guest.

"Oh, Mr. Hammond and I met up at the cemetery this morning. We got to talking on the way back and so I invited him in for coffee."

"Ruth, I told you to call me Bill," Mr. Hammond finally spoke, smiling as he set his cup down on the table in front of him.

"Yes, I know. But I think my nephew here is a bit embarrassed that he walked in on me with a visitor in the house."

At the phrasing of her words, Martin scrunched his face in a grimace, trying not to recall the memory of his Auntie Joan in the middle of engaging activities with that Oedipal-complexed painter. He shook his head, willing to forget. "I see."

Ruth could tell what he was thinking. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Martin, do you really think I'm one of those teenagers with raging hormones?"

Mr. Hammond started to laugh and Martin turned to give him a stern look. "No, of course not!"

"Good. Because it's nothing like that."

"Then what exactly _is_ it," he shot back quickly.

Ruth took a sip from her cup. "Just coffee and biscuits between new friends."

"I see." Martin set his half-empty coffee cup down on the table in the centre of the room. "Then I won't keep you." He stood up and headed for the door.

"Oh, c'mon, Doc, don't leave," Mr. Hammond said, standing as well.

Ruth stood and placed a hand on her nephew's arm. "Stay a little longer, Martin. We don't mind."

Martin shook his head. "No, I can't. I, um, need to stop and get some groceries and check on a few things at the surgery."

Ruth pursed her lips. "Mm, I understand. Another time, maybe?"

"Yes." Before he left, Martin addressed Mr. Hammond. "Um, don't forget about your appointment next week, Mr. Harris, and those results you have from Truro."

"It's Hammond. And yes, I'll remember," the old man said, grinning slightly.

"Mm, good. Um, goodbye." Giving his aunt a nod of his head, Martin finished with the last button of his overcoat then left the cottage, deciding after all to stop at the green grocers to fetch the imaginary produce he'd conjured up.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-seven

After a quiet dinner, Louisa insisted on doing the washing up to let Martin relax and rest his shoulder. He was sitting on the sofa reading his medical journal while James was seated on the floor by his father's feet, pushing his toy police car and model locomotive around in circles.

It had been an unusually quiet evening in the Ellingham household. James was cooperative as he consumed his entire dinner and Martin was his typical reticent self, leaving Louisa to battle with her own thoughts over the much needed weekend.

She became distracted, thinking of how she was going to tell Martin of the plans she had made for the next few days. Reaching into the soapy water, Louisa's fingers fumbled with a chef's knife and she let out a small cry as the sharp blade sliced through her thumb. "Ow! Bugger!" she exclaimed, yanking her hand out of the water.

"Louisa?" Martin said, his wife's cry signaling him to jump to his feet. He quickly stepped into the kitchen and moved to her side. The water in the sink was a hazy pink colour and Martin swallowed hard. "What happened?"

Louisa frantically reached for the paper towels to try and stop the bleeding. "The knife nicked my thumb," she said, holding the bleeding appendage with her other hand.

"Let me see?" he asked, reaching out for her injured hand.

Louisa lifted the mass of paper towels from her injured thumb to let her husband examine the damage. "It was stupid of me," she said, her face screwing into a tight grimace. "I wasn't thinking."

The colour had drained from Martin's face as he felt his stomach churn and his chest tighten. The pad of Louisa's thumb was sliced down to the interphalangeal joint, and a steady stream of blood flowed down to her wrist. Martin clamped his mouth shut and began to heave at the sight. He looked away and went to the pantry to retrieve a clean dish towel. "Okay, hold that," he instructed after wrapping her hand in the towel.

"Martin, are you okay?" Louisa asked, seeing the sweat beading on his brow and upper lip.

Martin cleared his throat, feeling the nausea getting worse. "Mm, excuse me."

He rushed past her under the stairs and Louisa could hear the retching sounds coming from his consulting room. She waited until the noise subsided before heading towards his office.

He was startled when he stuck his head out the door to find Louisa standing in front of him. "Um, come through." He cleared his throat again. "Sit down on the chair next to the examination bench and keep your elbow bent at a ninety degree angle."

"Okay." Louisa squeezed past him just as he was leaving. "Where are you going?"

"To put James in his playpen. I don't him wandering in here."

"Oh, okay." She hadn't thought of that.

When he returned, Martin had her stand up and join him at the sink. He took a deep breath before removing the bloodied towel. "Let me know if this hurts, alright?" She nodded, so Martin proceeded with running her thumb under the tap water to wash out the cut.

Louisa gasped and clenched her jaw tightly to refrain from crying out. She watched as the blood was washed from her hand and swirled down the drain in a stream of pink. Peering up at her husband, he was now surprisingly calm as he concentrated on the task at hand.

After washing away the blood, Martin wrapped a pad of gauze around her thumb. "Hold that and take a seat by the examination bench." She did as she was told while Martin snapped on a pair of gloves and began opening the cupboard above the sink, pulling out the supplies he needed. Then wheeling his cart and stool over, he sat down to assess the wound in his wife's thumb.

He took another deep breath before peeling away the gauze. "This might sting a bit," he said before using his disinfectant spray on her thumb.

"Ow!" she cried out softly, closing her eyes at the slight pain.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. I trust you."

He glanced up at her for a moment then turned his attention back down to her thumb. It was starting to bleed again, so Martin used his tweezers to assess how deep the cut was. "You'll need a few stitches," he said, using another pad of gauze to try and stem the bleeding. "I'll give you a local anesthetic to numb the pain. Should only take a few minutes."

Louisa tried to remain calm as Martin expertly slipped the needle into the skin of her thumb, injecting the anesthetic. "Are you doing alright?" he asked her, and Louisa nodded, touched that he took such good care of her.

She watched in fascination as Martin silently began suturing her thumb. He was gentle with her; keeping a light grip on her wrist and glancing up at her every time he pulled the needle and thread through her skin, making sure she wasn't in any pain.

After applying a plaster, he stood up and gathered his supplies, empty wrappers crinkling and the snap of his latex gloves as he moved to dispose of them in the bin next to his desk. "I'll check the stitches in the morning," he said, taking a seat next to her on his stool. "If there's any pain or discomfort at all I want you to tell me, alright?"

Louisa nodded. "Okay." She reached out with her right hand to touch his cheek. "Thank you, Martin . . . for doing this."

His eyes softened as he gazed back at her. "Mm, you're welcome."

Louisa was glad that he didn't press her for details regarding the injury to her thumb. She let her hand drift down the curve of his cheek when James let out a series of piercing screams. Both parents stood up, alarmed, and rushed out to the living room.

"We're coming, James!" Louisa shouted as she followed close behind Martin.

Coming out from the hallway under the stairs, Martin and Louisa saw James standing up in his playpen clutching the wooden railing. His face was red as tears streamed down his cheeks, desperate to get free of his restricting playpen.

"Oh, James," Louisa began as she hoisted him into her arms. Martin tried to stop her from putting too much pressure on her injured thumb but it was too late. "It's alright. I'm sorry, we didn't mean to leave you here all alone." She held him to her chest as James continued to scream into her neck.

Martin felt helpless as he stood off to the side watching his unhappy son. But he seemed to calm down as Louisa shushed and comforted him in a gentle swaying motion.

"Mummy and Daddy didn't forget about you," she cooed into his ear. "Mummy had a bit of an accident, but Daddy made it all better, see?" Louisa held up her injured thumb for James to see. He looked at it for a moment then reached out to touch the white plaster with his small fingers.

"Louisa," Martin interjected, but she ignored him.

James stared in rapt fascination at the strange material covering his mother's thumb. It seemed to distract him from the distress he was feeling earlier.

"Louisa, I should take him," Martin tried again. "You shouldn't be putting any strain on your thumb. The stitches could tear."

She finally looked up at him. "It's fine, Martin. He's not hurting me."

Martin rolled his eyes. "That's because the anesthetic hasn't worn off yet."

"I know." She gave him an annoyed look before turning her attention back to their son. "How about a bath, James, hmm? Will that make you feel better?"

"Bat!" James said, grasping his mother's bandaged thumb. "Now!"

Louisa chuckled at her son's excitement, glad that he was no longer upset. "Okay." She glanced up at her husband. "Should we invite Daddy? I think he's feeling a bit left out."

James turned towards his father and held out a short, pudgy arm. "Da-ee! Bat!"

The corners of Martin's mouth twitched as he followed his wife and son up the stairs.

Once James was bathed and dressed in his pyjamas, Martin read him his bedtime story. "Goodnight, James," he said softly once his son had fallen asleep. He gently laid him in his cot and pulled the blankets up to his chin. As he looked down at James, Martin could see how fast his son was growing. The cot looked much too small for the growing toddler. Maybe he'd broach the subject with Louisa? Touching his son's cheek one last time, Martin slipped out of the nursery, quietly closing the door behind him, and headed across the landing.

Louisa was lying on her side staring at the window when Martin entered the room. Her eyes followed him as he began his nightly preparations. She was lost in thought over her weekend plans that she didn't notice her husband slip into bed until she felt his large hand on her shoulder. "Louisa?" he said with a bit of hesitation.

She turned to face him. "Hmm?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

Martin wrinkled his brow, disturbed by her silence. "Did I do something?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Martin, I just have something on my mind, that's all."

"Mm, I see."

He started to lay back against the pillows. "Here," she said, leaning over and tucking an extra pillow under his right arm. "Now you're all settled." She gave him a slight smile and a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you." He smoothed the bedsheets out over his stomach then laced his fingers together. "How's your thumb?" he asked, turning his head in her direction.

Louisa shifted closer to him and propped her head up on the palm of her right hand. Looking down at the plaster covering her left thumb she said, "It's fine. Still a bit numb."

"Mm, that's to be expected. You said you sliced it on a knife?"

"Mmhmm, quite stupid of me actually. I was distracted and forgot there was a knife in the sink."

Martin shook his head. "It's a common mistake." He paused, noticing her teasing grin. "What?" he asked, trying to make sense of her strange reaction.

"Nothing. I just didn't expect you to say that."

"Then what did you expect?"

"I don't know. How idiotic it was of me; how I wasn't thinking . . ."

"You weren't thinking, but it happens to everyone at some point. I, um, I'm just glad it wasn't serious."

"Me too. Otherwise, I bet we both would have fainted."

"Mm, yes." He lifted his left arm to let her snuggle into his side.

Louisa rested her head against his good shoulder and reached up to clasp the fingers of his left hand. "Please don't be angry with me," she said, glancing up into his bluish-grey eyes.

Martin furrowed his brow. "About what?"

She traced a finger around one of the white buttons of his pyjama top. "I made plans for us this weekend to get away." He began to sit up but Louisa placed a firm hand on his chest, stopping him. "Just hear me out, Martin, please?" He nodded, an apprehensive look in his eyes, but she continued, "I made reservations at the farm, er, the B&B, for tomorrow and Sunday. I thought that getting out of the village for a few days might help you relax and concentrate on getting better." She held up her injured thumb. "I guess we both need it."

Martin remained silent for a few moments, contemplating her suggestion. "Are you sure, Louisa?"

"Yes. The weather's supposed to be clear tomorrow and I thought James might enjoy the wide open space and fresh air . . . give us some time with just the three of us uninterrupted." He was quiet again and Louisa was worried he was going to make up some excuse for not wanting to go, like on the morning of Sports Day when he rejected her offer of a long weekend away. "Anyway, I'd really like to go."

His silence seemed interminable. Then, letting a hiss of air escape his nose, Martin finally agreed, "Alright, fine. What time should we leave tomorrow?"

Louisa smiled and leaned over to kiss him square on the mouth. "Thank you." She pressed her cheek to his chest as she hugged him. "I thought we could leave after breakfast tomorrow. Is that alright with you?"

Martin tipped his head down as he watched her. "Yes, that's fine."

"Good." She traced the shell of his ear before lightly kissing his jaw. "Sleep well." She reached behind her to turn off the bedside lamp then draped her left arm over his stomach and closed her eyes, letting the warmth and comfort of her husband's body pull her into sleep.

Martin stared down at her as she nodded off, her cheek flat against his chest and her arm draped over his abdomen. He tightened his grip around her waist, protecting her, not wanting any other harm to come to her.

. . .

"We should think about getting James a proper bed," Martin said the following morning as he flipped a page in the newspaper. "He's beginning to outgrow his cot."

Louisa glanced over at their son, who was stuffing handfuls of dry cereal into his mouth. "I see."

Martin glanced up at her from his reading. "What?"

She handed James his cup of milk and he happily began sucking it down. "I'm just worried he might roll off and hurt himself."

Martin folded the paper and set it aside. "Louisa, they make beds for children his age with safety bars. I just think he'll be more comfortable in a bed where he can move around in."

Louisa let out a sigh. "I suppose." Then she looked to their little boy. "Someone's growing up too fast," she crooned to James while tickling his tummy. The toddler let out a chortle of laughter, causing milk to dribble down his chin. Louisa quickly wiped up the mess with James's bib. "Are you all packed?" she asked Martin, glancing over at him across the kitchen table.

"Yes," he replied in his curt tone. He stood up with his used breakfast dishes and placed them in the sink. "Are we paying for this little getaway, as you call it?"

Louisa took a sip of her tea. "Yes. I . . ."

"Utter nonsense," he interrupted her. "I shouldn't have to pay to stay at my Aunt's farm. I don't care if it's a bed and breakfast now."

"Martin, I promised Al before Christmas that we would spend a few days there to help drum up business."

"Louisa, my Aunt's farm was like a home to me; it still is. And now strangers get to stay there and for some reason it just seems wrong, especially since she's no longer here."

Louisa stood up and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek against his chest. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing up at him. "I know you have fond memories of Joan's farm. I tell you what. I'll speak with Al once we get there, but I'll pay for it. This is my gift to you - us. We need some time away from the village, especially you, mister." She tapped his speckled tie with her fingertip.

Martin looked down at her and smoothed a hand over the top of her head. "Okay. I trust you."

Leaning up on her toes, Louisa kissed the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. Can you finish up with James while I start getting his things together?"

"Yes. But I need to check the sutures on your thumb before we leave."

"Yes, Doctor." She gave his backside a playful pat before rushing out the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Martin turned and watched her go, thinking that maybe Louisa was right. A weekend away from the village did sound relaxing. He shook his head, feeling angry at himself for rejecting her the last time she suggested they get away. But he was no longer consumed with his fear of blood or the presence of his mother. He had nothing to worry about. He could finally concentrate on spending time with his family.

An hour later, the silver Lexus came to a stop next to the chicken coop at Portwenn Fishing Holidays. Al was waiting for them by the front door of the farmhouse. He was dressed in his business attire, complete with an overcoat, although no tie. "Mornin'!" he cheerfully greeted the Ellinghams as he strode over to the car.

"Morning, Al!" Louisa replied as she lifted James Henry from the back seat and set him down on the ground, taking his hand.

"Here, let me get those for you, Doc." Al reached down to grab the two overnight bags Martin had pulled from the boot.

"Mm, thank you," Martin said, slinging the nappy bag over his good shoulder.

"Looks like it's going to be a pleasant day," Al commented as he led the way into the house.

"Oh, Al!" Louisa gushed once she set foot in the newly-renovated farmhouse. "I love what you've done with the place!"

"Oh, thanks." Al tried not to blush. "Took a bit longer than anticipated, but I think everything turned out pretty good." He tried not to think of the unfortunate mishaps he had with his first guests.

"Oh, Martin, what do you think?" Louisa turned to face her husband, who was glancing around with that critical gaze of his.

"Um, it's nice. Certainly a lot different from the original," he said, noting how tidy and clean the kitchen looked.

Al cleared his throat at the sudden silence. "I'll just bring your bags upstairs. Excuse me."

Once Al left the room, Louisa bent down to James's level. "How about this, James? Your very first holiday." She straightened out the wrinkles of her son's long-sleeved, pinstripe shirt. "You know, this used to be your Great Aunt Joan's house . . ."

"I think I'll start unpacking," Martin interjected, quickly shuffling towards the stairs.

Louisa stared at her husband's retreating form, trying not to worry over his sudden change in mood. "Let's go see what your room looks like, shall we?" Taking James's hand, she carefully helped him up the steps to the second level.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Al asked once his guests were all settled.

Louisa shook her head as she sipped the complimentary "welcome" tea he had prepared. "I don't think so. Martin?" She looked across the kitchen table at him.

"No. Everything seems satisfactory. Thank you, Al."

Al nodded. "No problem, Doc. Enjoy your stay." He held up his navy coveralls. "I'll be workin' in the fields for a while, so if there's anything you need, just let me know."

"We will. Thanks again, Al," Louisa said, giving him a smile.

"See ya in the mornin'! Cheers!" With another nod of his head, Al left the family to themselves.

"So?" Louisa said, staring at Martin over the rim of her mug of tea.

He tilted his head to the side. "What?"

"Is there anything specific you'd like to do?"

"I'm not sure."

Louisa set down the speckled mug and began tracing the handle with her fingertip. "I know fishing's probably out of the question, but what did you enjoy doing when you were here as a little boy?"

"That was a long time ago, Louisa."

"I know. But what do you remember most?"

Martin looked down at his lap for a moment, fiddling with his fingers, trying to come up with an answer to her question. "Um, I suppose spending time with Uncle Phil while he worked in the fields and tended the animals. But sitting with Joan and watching the boats that would pass by below the cliffs was, um, memorable, er, something I enjoyed most."

Louisa smiled as she pictured her husband as a young boy sitting with Joan out by the cliffs. She glanced over at James, who was surprisingly still as he sat in the chair next to her, his head of light hair just visible over the edge of the table. "How about the three of us go out and sit by the cliffs?" she suggested. "Could be relaxing?"

"Mm," Martin grunted, "I suppose. The fresh air will do James some good." He stood up and reached for James, who happily jumped into his father's arms. "I'll put his coat and hat on then meet you out there."

"Sounds like a plan." Louisa's smile widened as she thought of a plan of her own.

A short time later, after wrestling a fidgeting James into his winter coat and hat, Martin was finally able to carry his son out to the spot he used to observe the sea from when he was a young boy. He stopped once he found the right place and looked around the open field quizzically, wondering where Louisa was. He did say that he'd meet her here.

"I'm coming, don't worry!" she finally shouted as she hurried towards them, carrying a basket by her side.

"What's this?" Martin asked, taking a look at what she'd brought with her.

"Just a few bits and pieces I found in the kitchen, nothing much," she said, bending down on the grass.

Martin awkwardly sat down next to her, almost tipping over with the weight of his son in one arm and his sling immobilizing the other. Finally recovering his equilibrium, he positioned James between himself and Louisa. "Champagne?" he questioned, seeing Louisa uncork the bottle and pour two flutes of the sparkling beverage.

"Cider, actually - non-alcoholic, just for you," she said, handing him a glass.

"I see." He brought the champagne flute up to his nose, deciding whether or not to taste it. James began to crawl in his lap, causing some of his cider to slosh down the front of his overcoat. "Oh, God," he muttered, setting down the glass and reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief.

"Come here, James. Why don't sit with, Mummy, hmm?" Louisa held out her arms and James sat up and rolled towards her, laughing in the process. "Are you being silly, James?" She leaned down and kissed his nose then started tickling his tummy.

James thrashed about, trying to escape his mother's tickling fingers. "No!" he cried out through his giggling. "Mum-ee!"

Martin watched from his spot next to Louisa, unsure of what to make of the situation. I mean, should he help James escape or join in with Louisa's tickling? "I've got you, James," Martin said, pulling him away from Louisa.

"Uh-oh, Daddy to the rescue."

James continued to laugh as he stared up at Martin. Reaching up and touching his father's cheek he said, "Da-ee! Res-coo!"

The corners of Martin's mouth inched upward in a slight grin. "That's right, James."

The toddler smiled up at Martin then rolled away into the long grass. He kicked his legs and reached up at the cloudless sky in wonder.

"Here, James," Louisa said, picking her son up and planting him on his bum. She reached into the basket and handed him a thin slice of cheese to keep him occupied. She couldn't contain her happiness. Both of her men were enjoying themselves. Looking down at her glass of cider then out at the expanse of blue sea, it reminded her of a time that was never real. Reaching out, she placed her hand over Martin's. "Thank you."

He turned his attention away from James to look at her. "For what?"

"For making my dream come true."

He furrowed his brow, unsure of what she was getting at. "How do you mean?"

"It was a dream I had years ago. I think I told you about it? Anyway, it was summer, and you and I were sitting here, looking out at the sea from the edge of the cliffs. There was a hamper, and champagne, and you were telling me a story when you suddenly stopped." Louisa paused to smile. "I knew what you wanted to say, it was my dream after all, but you decided to kiss me instead."

"I did?"

"No, not exactly. The cliffs began to split in two and I almost fell to my death, which is when I woke up." She rolled her eyes. "Naturally. But today my dream came true. Sitting here with you and James, it's what I've always wanted."

"So James was in your dream too?"

Louisa chuckled. "No, but he's an added bonus, don't you think?"

Glancing over at their little boy out of the corner of his eye, Martin agreed, "Yes, he is. I'm glad we had him."

Louisa could feel her heart begin to flutter at his words. "Oh, Martin."

"Hmm?"

"Come here."

Leaning over and closing the distance between them, Martin kissed her softly, letting it linger. He felt his son's small hands yank on the ends of his overcoat. Pulling away, he hauled James into his lap, holding him securely against his chest.

Louisa shifted closer to Martin and leaned over to rest her head against his, wrapping her arm around his waist. Though it wasn't summer and he never did touch his cider, for Louisa, their afternoon was still a dream come true.


	28. Chapter 28

**So I was a little bold with this chapter, as far as romance goes, but I think you'll like it (at least I'm hoping you do).**

Chapter Twenty-eight

After their little picnic by the cliffs, Al was more than happy to give James a ride on the tractor before he left for the day, given his parents' consent of course. Louisa stood in the tall grass watching her smiling son as Al manoeuvered the tractor around the field. She was worrying her lower lip, wondering what convinced her to let James ride on that tractor. But he was safely perched in front of Al, held against the entrepreneur's chest to keep him in place.

"Oh, look at him," Louisa said as she watched her son. She waved when the tractor passed by, and James excitedly waved back at her.

"Mm," Martin grunted beside her, watching the scene with a slight frown. His son looked to be enjoying himself, causing Martin to remember his time with his Uncle Phil when he was a young boy. He never felt saddened by Phil's death some twenty years later. He had just started at Imperial College Hospital in London when his aunt telephoned him of the news. By then he had learned to keep his emotions hidden deep inside. He attended the funeral a week later but returned to work the next day, having shoved the memories of his Uncle Phil to the very back of his mind. As he was taught, the operating theatre was no place for a sniveling, emotionally-unstable surgeon. He turned his attention back to his son, who was all smiles and full of laughter.

Al lifted James down from the tractor and swung him around in a circle, causing the young Ellingham to erupt in a fit of giggles. "Put it there, little man," Al said as he bent down to the toddler's level and held out an open palm.

James slapped his hand down against Al's, triggering another laughing spell at the funny noise his hand made.

"Come here, James," Louisa said, gesturing for her son to join her. "Let's get you inside and washed up before lunch." James rushed over and took her outstretched hand. "Did you have fun with Al?" she asked as she led her little boy back towards the farmhouse, giving Al a wave and nodding her thanks for letting James ride with him on the tractor.

James nodded his head, shouting, "Fun!" while pointing at Al and the big tractor.

Louisa smiled, glad that James was enjoying himself. She looked around for Martin, finally finding him standing by the chicken coop, staring down at his now dusty dress shoes. "Martin," she called out to him. "Are you joining us for lunch?"

"Yes." In a few large strides he was back by her side and James reached his other hand up for his father's. Martin took hold of his son's small fingers, feeling how cold his skin was. He probably should have put on the boy's mittens.

They enjoyed a light lunch and after James was put down for his afternoon nap, Louisa found Martin in their room lying on the bed, one arm bent with his hand clasped behind his head. "Are you tired, too?" she asked as she crawled in beside him.

"No, just relaxing."

"Good." Louisa turned on her side and began rhythmically stroking her hand up and down his chest. "You were quiet during lunch."

"Yes."

"Any particular reason?"

"No."

He continued to stare at the ceiling and Louisa figured he just wanted some time to himself. "I'll just be downstairs. Keep an ear out for James, will you?"

"Yes, of course."

A small smile formed and Louisa leaned over to kiss his cheek before pulling herself up from the bed and silently leaving the room.

Later that night, Martin couldn't get to sleep. Louisa was practically draped over the left half of his body, making it difficult for him to move without waking her. "Louisa?" he whispered to her while gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Could you move over a bit? My arm's growing numb."

"Oh. Sorry." She rolled over on to her back, freeing Martin from her hold. "That better?"

Pulling his good arm over his chest, he worked the circulation back into his hand and arm. "Yes, thank you."

"Mmhmm."

A minute later, Martin could hear her light snoring again, a sign that she was fast asleep. He laid on his back for a while, staring up at the ceiling, still unable to fall asleep. His gaze kept drifting towards the open doorway to the hall, thinking of his Aunt Joan. The memories he had of her were stronger here in the house. He missed her terribly, now more than ever.

Being as quiet as he could, Martin pulled himself out of bed and reached for his dressing gown. The wood floor in the hallway was cold under his bare feet as Martin walked towards the room James was sleeping in.

His son was fast asleep in the collapsible cot they brought with. The corners of Martin's mouth inched upward as he gazed down at James, who was sprawled on his back, tangled in his blankets, with his purple dinosaur clutched in his left hand. He felt his son's forehead with the backs of his fingers, then brushed them through his short blond hair before leaving the room.

Stepping out into the hallway, a floorboard creaked and Martin froze, hoping he didn't wake Louisa. He waited in silence for a few seconds before continuing on to what used to be his Auntie Joan's bedroom. It was converted into a study, which Martin was grateful for. He couldn't bear the thought of someone sleeping in his Aunt's room. The picture she had of Martin was still there, now sitting on a side table in the corner of the room next to a vase of flowers.

With trembling hands, Martin picked up the picture of himself, remembering the last time he was in this room. He had just identified his aunt's body at the hospital morgue and taking his newborn son with him, somehow ended up in this room, where a paper bag with a brand new blue onesie was waiting for him on the bed.

A loud thump startled Martin, followed by an intense pain in his big toe. Looking down, he realised he'd dropped the picture, and with all his might tried to refrain from crying out at the throbbing in his toe.

The glass of the frame was cracked down the middle and he let a hiss of air escape his nose. He felt a tear run down his cheek and Martin inhaled a long breath before letting it out again. He couldn't explain his sudden rush of emotion; either from the pain of his throbbing toe or the ache he felt by his aunt's absence, he couldn't be sure which.

Deciding he wouldn't be able to sleep, Martin ventured downstairs and sat down on the sofa in front of the darkened fireplace. He could hear the wind rattling the window panes, but ignored it. He set the cracked picture frame on the cushion next to him. As he stared at the brick outlining the fireplace, Martin had a sudden urge for a drink; something strong to ease the ache he felt deep in his chest. But he pushed his desire away, knowing he wouldn't be able to go through with it. It would have just put him to sleep anyway. He'd rather stay awake, where he could have control over his thoughts and emotions.

He laid down on his side, pulling his knees up to his chest to accommodate his entire length on the short sofa. Resting his head against a decorative throw pillow, Martin continued to stare at the empty, darkened fireplace, somewhat reflecting how he felt on the inside.

Maybe it was a mistake coming here, he thought. He didn't think he'd ever felt such grief before in his life. It was like losing a mother; how close he and Joan were, especially when he was a young boy. He felt more tears slide down his cheeks, and Martin reached up to wipe them away with his sleeve.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and Martin sat up quickly, startled. He reached over to turn on the lamp and found his wife standing over him from behind the sofa. "Louisa? What are you doing?"

She wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her and crossed her arms. "I could say the same to you. I woke up because I thought I heard James and I noticed you weren't next to me."

Martin cleared his throat. "I, um, I couldn't sleep."

"I can see that." She vigorously rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to generate some heat. "It's cold down here. Why don't you come back upstairs to bed and I can warm you up?" He was silent, and as Louisa looked at him more closely she could see the tear stains on his cheeks and the redness around his eyes. She softened her voice, "Oh, Martin. What's wrong?" She moved around the sofa to sit next to him.

Martin looked away from her, feeling embarrassed that she caught him in an emotional moment.

Louisa placed a comforting hand on his upper back. "Can you tell me?"

Martin remained quiet, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head against his left shoulder. He reached up and covered her hand with his own.

"Martin, you're freezing!" Louisa exclaimed, pulling away from him. She reached behind them and grabbed the thick, quilted blanket that was hanging over the back of the sofa. She draped it around their shoulders and nestled up to his side to generate some body heat. "We could get the fireplace going if you want?" she suggested after a minute of silence.

"Mm. I'll find some matches or a lighter of some kind." Martin untangled himself from the blanket and stood up to fetch a lighter. When he returned he repositioned the wooden logs in the fireplace and ignited the kindling to get the fire started.

"The chimney isn't blocked, is it?" Louisa asked as he sat beside her.

"No."

"Good." She had a brief recollection of their honeymoon at the lodge. Smiling, she resumed her position against Martin's side. "You still haven't told me what's bothering you."

"Maybe because I don't want to talk about it."

"Mar-tin, don't you dare pull away from me!" Louisa said, a bit of anger to her tone. "We agreed that we'd tell each other everything. I'm not losing you again over this silence." She softened her voice and hugged him from the side. "You can tell me, you know." She buried her nose in the soft material of his dressing gown. "I won't judge you. I just want to help you, Martin."

Martin sat staring at the fire, watching as the flames grew larger and the wood crackled and popped, mesmerizing him. Finally, he turned to look at her. "It's the house."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

He let a hiss of air escape his nose, preparing himself. "The house. It keeps reminding me of Joan, even though it looks different." He paused to take in a deep breath. "I miss her terribly, Louisa." His eyes began to water again and he willed himself to hold them back, but to no avail.

Louisa's features softened, and seeing the tears threatening to escape her husband's eyes, she pulled him to her. "Oh, Martin."

He buried his face in her shoulder and let out a strangled sob. Louisa wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "It'll be alright, Martin." She ran her fingers through his greying hair.

"It hurts," he gasped out, his sobs muffled in the crook of her neck.

"What hurts? Am I squeezing your shoulder too hard?"

He shook his head. "No. The empty feeling in my chest. It hurts."

Louisa closed her eyes, feeling saddened by her husband's aching heart, but also happy that he was finally releasing all the grief he had kept buried deep inside since Joan's death. "Shh, Martin," she tried soothing him in the way she would with James. "I'm here for you."

Martin continued to cling to her. He turned his head to bury his nose in her hair. It was soft and silky, and still held the faint scent of her shampoo from the morning. She shifted to straighten out her bent leg and Martin tightened his hold on her. "Don't go."

"I'm not. I'm right here. My knee was getting sore." She hugged him back just as tightly.

"Lay down with me?"

"Of course."

Martin pulled away from her to turn off the lamp on the side table then extended his legs out on the sofa, lying on his side. Louisa laid down beside him, shifting back against his front. Martin pulled the blanket over them and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, keeping her close to his chest. He pushed her hair away to kiss the nape of her neck.

Louisa closed her eyes, cherishing the warm affection from her husband. "We shouldn't stay down here all night," she whispered. "James might need us."

"Mm. She never got to see him."

Louisa pulled his arm more tightly around her. "She'll always see him, Martin - from wherever she is. She knows how much you love James . . . and how much you loved her." She heard him pull in a sharp breath, then felt his warm lips on the back of her neck.

"Thank you," he whispered against her skin.

"I love you, Martin - with all my heart."

He closed his eyes. "I love you too, Louisa - always."

With the heat of the fire and the warmth of their bodies pressed close together, Martin and Louisa peacefully drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

. . .

The next morning, Martin woke up to find that Louisa was no longer lying beside him. It was still early and the winter sun had yet to make its appearance. He stood up from the sofa and stretched his arms, feeling a persistent ache in his right shoulder. He thought about last night and the emotional state he'd been in. Louisa had been there to comfort and help him through his grief, which he was thankful for, despite feeling vulnerable and shy when having to open up with her over such matters. Her devotion and commitment to him was something he loved most about her.

He rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand as he headed for the stairs. When he reached their room on the second level, he quietly stepped inside. Louisa was still asleep in bed. He wondered when she ventured upstairs. Perhaps James had woken in the middle of the night and he hadn't heard? Trying not to overthink it, he peeled off his dressing gown and headed for the bathroom across the hall to shower.

As he was lathering his hair with shampoo, Martin felt a stream of cold air prickle his bare skin. He jumped when he felt a pair of hands slide around his waist. "Jeez!" He turned around to find Louisa standing in front of him, as bare as he was. "For God's sake, Louisa! Don't do that! You'll give me a heart attack!" He placed a hand on his chest to calm his rapid breathing.

"I should hope not," she said, her lips curling into a teasing grin. "You have the healthiest diet I've ever seen." She walked her fingers up his bare chest, finding his soapy, disheveled hair somewhat charming.

Martin was still breathing heavy and his wife's touch was only strengthening his physical response to her. "I, um, I need to wash my hair." He turned away from her and stepped under the water. Even with his back to her, he could feel her eyes on him as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. When he finished, Louisa squeezed past him to get to the warm water. His gaze drifted over her naked form, lingering at her chest.

"Something wrong, Martin?" Louisa asked, smiling at his flustered expression.

"What? No," he sputtered, turning his attention away from her to pick up the bar of soap.

"Here, let me do that for you."

Martin frowned. He wasn't an invalid. "I can manage, thank you."

Louisa sighed, pushing away the wet hair that was stuck to her cheek. "I'm trying to be romantic, Martin, but you're ruining it."

Martin looked down at his bare feet, feeling chastised. "I'm sorry. But I should really finish up in case James awakens."

Louisa grabbed his arm, pulling him up against her. "I checked on him before I came in here. He's just fine." She took the bar of soap from his hand and began massaging it over his shoulders and down his chest. Her fingernails skimmed over the muscle of his obliques, following the rivulets of water that trailed down to his hips.

"Louisa?" he mumbled, feeling himself responding to her touch.

"Yes, Martin?" She grinned in that teasing way of hers.

He gazed into her eyes for a moment, entranced. "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

Louisa set the bar of soap down then cupped his face in her hands and pulled him to her, kissing him deeply. Martin wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up so they were at the same height. But her slippery skin was causing her to slide from his arms. He readjusted his hold on her when they pulled away to catch their breath. "I should really check on James," Martin insisted, feeling overwhelmed by his desire for her.

Louisa slapped her hand against his shoulder, frustrated that he was ruining their intimate moment. "Martin, please don't go." She paused to look him in the eye. "I need you." To prove her point, she clasped a hand behind his neck and kissed him.

Martin tightened his grip around her waist. Feeling lost in their kiss, he turned them around so her back was against the wall of the shower. "You're the only one who makes me feel this way, you know," he said, his lips following the beads of water that ran down to her collarbone.

Louisa gripped his wet hair with one hand while the other trailed down his back. "Martin!" she gasped as he moved against her.

"Louisa . . ." he murmured as his lips once again found hers. He needed this; the release of all the pent up emotion he was feeling the other night.

She held him tightly as they became lost in each other, the steam from the hot water curling around them in a blanket of fog.

. . .

An hour later, the Ellingham family sat down to breakfast prepared by Al Large, who in Martin's opinion, was a far better cook than he gave him credit for.

"Did everyone sleep well?" the young man asked as he turned from his position at the cooker.

"Yes, we did. Thank you, Al," Louisa replied as she spooned another helping of scrambled eggs on to James's plate. He was doing quite well with his plastic fork, not making too much of a mess.

"Lovely morning, though, init?" Al nodded towards the kitchen window, where the sky was streaked with hues of pinks and orange.

Martin glanced up from the newspaper, staring intently at Louisa, not paying the sunrise any attention. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and to the tip of his ears as he thought of their "lovely" morning.

"Yes, it is lovely." Louisa's eyes grew dark as she returned her husband's intense gaze. She purposefully bumped her foot against his under the table and he sputtered over his cup of coffee.

"Okay there, Doc?" Al asked, moving to the doctor's side.

Martin coughed and wiped his face with his napkin. He gave Louisa an it's-not-funny-but-I'll-get-you-back look. She gave him an innocent smile in return. "Yes, I'm fine."

"So what are your plans for today?" Al ruffled James's hair as he sat down next to the toddler.

"We decided we're going to take a walk around the lake," Louisa said, finishing her toast.

"Great! Anyone up for fishing? Doc?" Al crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair as he turned towards Martin.

Martin continued reading the paper, only paying half-attention to the conversation going on around him. "Sitting in a boat waiting for hours on the slim probability that a fish will succumb to its fate? No, thank you. Watching grass grow would be a more productive use of my time."

"Mar-tin!" Louisa hissed, giving his shin a sharp kick with her foot.

"Ow! What?" He looked up at her with a pained expression.

"Apologise," she scolded, nodding towards Al.

"It's alright, Doc," Al interjected, saving Martin an apology. "I hear ya. Fishing's not for everyone. It does require a lot of patience."

"Mm. I can imagine."

"Maybe James would like to go?" Al suggested as he reached over to tickle the toddler's cheek.

Louisa tried not to frown. "Oh, I don't know, Al. It's kind of you to offer, but James is just too young. I'm afraid he could fall out of the boat, or worse . . . Maybe in a couple of years though . . ."

Al nodded. "Yeah, I understand." He turned to face the young Ellingham. "When you turn eight, little man, you gotta promise yer Uncle Al you'll go fishin' with 'im, alright?"

James smiled up at Al, giving him a toothy grin. He slapped his hand down on top of Al's as a sign of agreement.

"That'a boy." Al ruffled James's hair once more before standing up and clearing some of the breakfast dishes from the table.

It was a chilly morning, and when the Ellinghams ventured outside, they weren't surprised to see that the ground was frosted over. Running up to the grass by the chicken coop, James bent down on his haunches to inspect the tiny ice crystals. He laughed when he found that they stuck to the palms of his fleece mittens. He held them up for his father to see. "Da-ee! Fun!"

"You're having fun?" Martin knelt down by his son. "That's frost." He pointed at the ice crystals on James's mittens, which were now starting to melt. "At night, it gets cold in the winter and when it's humid the moisture in the air freezes and sticks to the ground as ice."

James tilted his head to the side as he listened to his father, in his own way trying to comprehend what he was saying. He looked down at his mittens, noticing that the ice was no longer there. "No more!" He looked up at Martin with a quivering lip.

"The ice melted, James." Martin guided his son's hand back to the ground, and he squealed in delight to see that more of the fascinating crystals reappeared.

Taking off his mitten, James touched the frozen ground with his bare hand. He let out a shriek, discovering that it was cold.

"Yes, it's cold," Martin explained. "Almost like snow."

James smiled and reached out to touch his father's face with his cold and wet hand. Martin grimaced, making James laugh. Swiping a finger along the frozen dew, Martin covered his son's nose with the melted ice. James shook his head from side to side, giggling in the process. "Cold, Da-ee!" He stood up and wrapped his short arms around his father's neck, and Martin scooped him up off the ground, turning in a large circle.

Louisa had been watching her husband and son from the door of the farmhouse. They were so adorable together, but she dare not say it in front of Martin, knowing he'd feel embarrassed by it. But seeing James, along with his father, having fun, warmed her heart.

She readjusted her scarf and slipped on her fleece gloves before catching up with her two boys. "Wait for me!" she shouted as they started off towards the lake ahead of her.

"Mum-ee!" James shouted over Martin's shoulder, extending an arm towards her.

Martin stopped and turned around at James's outburst. He caught his breath at the sight of her. Though she was fully clothed in jeans and her winter coat, she still looked as beautiful as ever. Her dark hair was pulled up in her signature ponytail with a black headband covering her ears.

"Are you okay, Martin?" Louisa asked once she finally caught up to him.

He snapped out of his trance. "Yes." He cleared his throat. "You look very beautiful today."

Louisa smiled. "That's twice in one morning you've said that. I think that's a new record for you."

"Mm, yes."

James began to fidget in Martin's arms, wanting to be with his mother. He reached out for her and Louisa pulled him to her. "Ugh!" she grunted. "You're getting too heavy James Henry. Pretty soon Mummy won't be able to carry you anymore." James snuggled against her collarbone, turning towards the warmth of his mother's neck.

"If he's too heavy I can take him," Martin offered as they continued their walk to the lake. "I don't want you hurting yourself."

"It's fine, Martin, I've got him. I was making an exaggeration."

"I see." They were quiet for a few minutes until Martin broke the silence. "How's your thumb?" he asked. "I didn't get a chance to ask you this morning."

Louisa smiled to herself, thinking back to their time in the shower. "It's fine."

"No pain or discomfort?"

"I said it's fine, Martin."

Martin nodded. "Good. I'm only asking because -"

"I know," she interjected. "You have a duty of care."

"Yes. But you're my wife, Louisa. And I hate to see you hurt or in pain."

"I know." She turned to look at him. "And that's what makes you a good doctor. But it makes you a better husband - knowing that you care."

Martin swallowed over the lump in his throat. He reached over to take her gloved hand, wishing he could feel her skin against his. "I always care, especially about you."

She smiled to herself. Why couldn't he be like this all the time? she wondered. Though he was getting better, he was still a bit hesitant with her at times. "You're not wearing your sling," Louisa said, finally acknowledging its absence.

"No. I figured it would be too bulky with my coat. I'll put it on when we get back."

They continued to stroll through the long grass hand in hand, taking in the fresh air and listening to the sounds of nature. "How are you doing?" Louisa asked him as a view of the lake grew visible as they neared the woods.

"I don't understand."

"I mean, since last night . . . you know . . ." She tipped her head down and peered up at him. "You were missing Joan?"

Martin shook his head. "Oh, right. Yes. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She believed him. He was gradually becoming more open with her, especially with his emotions.

As they neared the lake, James began kicking his legs at his mother, wanting to be let down. Louisa was reluctant to let go of him, fearing that he could run off and fall into the freezing water. But Martin was surprisingly agile when it came to chasing after their son. Those long legs of his would allow him to reach James much quicker than she could. "You need to hold my hand, then, alright?" she said to James as she set him down on the grass.

James took hold of his mother's hand and led her towards the bank of the water. He bent down and stared at his reflection in the water.

"You need to be careful, James. The water's cold."

As Martin approached his wife, James let out a shriek as he frantically pointed at the rippling water. "What is it, James?" Martin bent his tall frame down to his son's level.

"Feesh!" James shouted, turning to look at his father.

"You saw a fish?" Martin clarified. James nodded his head vigorously. "Good for you, James. Shall we see if we can't spot any others?" He stood up and pulled James into his arms, moving towards the wooden dock that jutted out from the edge of the lake. The large rowboat was stationary, tied to the wooden post at the end of the dock.

Martin carefully sat down on the end of the dock, his black dress shoes just grazing the surface of the water. James knelt beside him on his knees and peered over the edge, looking into the water.

Martin wrapped his hands around his son's torso, making sure that he wouldn't fall in. "Do you see anything, James?"

"Da-ee!" James pointed at the reflection of Martin's legs and upper body, then at his own. "Jame!"

"Very good, James. That's your reflection. It has to do with the angle at which a ray of light is reflected off the surface of the water." Martin reached up to tug on his ear, trying to think of a way to explain basic physics to a toddler. "When you're a bit older we can discuss the topic in more detail, but essentially, the reflected light produces a mirror-image, in this case, you, or me, see?" Martin leaned over and looked down into the water at his reflection.

James laughed and pointed at the water. "Da-ee!"

"That's right." Martin pulled his son back from his precarious perch on the end of the dock.

While Martin and James were busy discussing the science of reflections, Louisa stood watching them from the opposite end of the dock. She wrapped her arms around herself, unsure if she should join them or not. But Martin must have sensed her presence because he turned around to face her, giving her a slight smile. He had his right arm wrapped around James's stomach, making sure he was safe. He jerked his head to the side, signaling for her to join them.

Louisa scooped James up when she reached the end of the dock. She sat down next to her husband, situating James in her lap. "It's peaceful here," she said.

"Mm, and quiet."

Louisa turned to look at him. "Just the way you like it."

Martin grunted again. "Yes. But I'm starting to learn that a little chaos can be good, too."

She smiled, linking her arm through his. "You've come so far, Martin."

"Yes. I'm finally feeling comfortable with the new changes in my life."

"Good." She glanced down at James to run her fingers over his head and down his cheek. "I know some of those changes were forced on you, and that you had a difficult time accepting them, but I wouldn't change any of it because I get to be with you and the most beautiful, intelligent little boy there is."

"Thank you - for planning this little outing." He paused to look down at James for a moment. "I was hesitant at first, but being away with just you and James for a few days was very relaxing - what I needed, I think."

Louisa tightened her grip on his arm. "I'm glad. How about you, James? Did you have fun this weekend?" She looked down at their son and he peered up at her with a grin.

He reached up with his mittens to touch her face. "Fun!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Louisa chuckled. "Is it horrible of me to say that I don't want to leave?" she asked.

"We can always come back, Louisa. It's not Portugal."

"I know. It's just, when we're at home I feel like I have to share you with the entire village, but when it's just us, I have you all to myself. It sounds selfish, I know, but . . ." She shrugged.

Martin's expression softened. "It's not selfish. The health of the village is my responsibility, yes. But you always have me, Louisa - since the day we first met."

Louisa's insides melted at his romantic words. "Oh, Martin."

He leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. "It's true. My feelings for you since that plane ride from London - they'll never change."

"I believe you."

Martin reached up to touch her cheek and Louisa covered his cold hand with her own. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth from her glove bring the circulation back into his hand. "I love you, Louisa," he said softly, opening his eyes.

"I love you, too, Martin," she whispered back, holding James closer and leaning against Martin's shoulder, happy that she took a chance on a weekend away.


	29. Chapter 29

**I'm terribly sorry for the super long wait, but the past couple of weeks have been very busy and stressful for me. I thank everyone for their patience and continued feedback as I work through this story. I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter but I think it fits okay as a transition. Anyway, let me know what you think!**

Chapter Twenty-nine

By Tuesday, Louisa was finally back to her daily routine, after having spent the weekend relaxing and spending time with her family at the farm. Though spring term wasn't over for a few months, the summer holidays usually came and went fast, and this year Louisa was prepared to get ahead before she had to meet schoolboard deadlines at the end of term.

That evening she had stayed late at the school, going over the year's budget as well as planning for incoming students fall term. Knowing that Martin would be home, Louisa phoned to inform him that she'd be working late. By the time she climbed the steps to the surgery, it was well past six and nearly dark.

"Sorry I'm so late," she said as she entered the kitchen through the back door.

Martin turned from his position at the counter, a knife clutched in his right hand. "Yes, you phoned earlier." He stared at her for a moment as she hung up her coat and scarf next to the door. "I was, um, starting to worry. It was getting dark out. I could have picked you up so you didn't have to walk."

Louisa smiled, touched that he was thinking of her. "Thank you, Martin. But I'll try not to make staying late a regular occurrence."

"Mum-ee!" James squealed as he rushed over towards his mother.

Louisa's smile widened at the sight of her son. Bending over, she hoisted him into her arms. "Hi, sweetheart! Did you have fun at school today?" She placed a series of kisses along his cheek.

"Fun!" the toddler shouted as he leaned over to rest his head in the crook of Louisa's neck.

"That's good," she chuckled. "And how about Daddy? How was your day?" she asked Martin.

He turned to look at her. "It was fine."

Louisa moved over to his side. "Is your shoulder feeling better?" She gave his upper arm a gentle squeeze.

He was back to dicing vegetables. "Yes. My appointment in Truro is tomorrow afternoon."

Louisa's face fell. "Oh, Martin, I wish you would have told me sooner."

"Why?"

"I can't pick up James from the nursery school tomorrow. I have a meeting with the school governors."

Martin sighed. "Well, I can't collect him. What about that, um, girl that watches him in the afternoons?"

"Janice? She could, but the school requires a parent or guardian be present in order to take a child home. Can't you pick James up before your appointment then leave him with Janice?"

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. Hopefully the physician in Truro could clear him to go back to work because he didn't know how much longer he could take sitting in his office all day doing nothing while Louisa was at school. He was beginning to feel like Penhale. He craved a medical emergency; a broken bone, a bad back, or even a runny nose would satisfy the longing.

"Martin?"

He finally snapped out of his thoughts. "What?!" he shouted, not realising that he had raised his voice.

James started to cry at his father's loud outburst and tried to hide against his mother's neck. Louisa frowned. "Martin, what's gotten into you? I just want to know if you'll be able to pick James up from the nursery tomorrow. Because if you can't, I'll just have to reschedule my meeting."

Martin shook his head. "No, I can pick him up. But that girl better be here on time to watch him. I will not be late for my appointment."

"Thank you. I'll let her know," she said quietly before turning her attention to a distressed James. "Shh, it's alright, James." She combed her fingers through his soft hair. "Daddy didn't mean to shout. I think he just misses seeing patients, is all." She moved to the living room to give Martin some space.

As James played with his toys next to her on the sofa, Louisa watched him intently, studying his features. He had that childlike innocence to him as he concentrated on pulling two building blocks apart that she could almost picture Martin at the same age. She reached out and fingered his little ear and James looked up at her and giggled. "Are you ticklish there, James?"

James dropped his blocks in his lap and covered his ears with both hands. "Mum-ee, no!"

Louisa chuckled. His vocabulary and comprehension was gradually improving and she wondered how long it would be before he could finally form full sentences. It helped that Martin read to him almost every night and the few days of social interaction with children his age eased some of the worry Louisa had over his development. She held her arms open and James happily crawled over to her.

"I love you just the way you are, James Henry," she said, resting her chin against the crown of his head. He reached for his blocks and Louisa handed them to him, smiling as he began connecting them back together again. She turned towards the kitchen, watching as Martin moved swiftly about, cleaning as he went. For some reason she found it alluring that he wore an apron over his suit. It made her heart beat faster just thinking about it and she tried to keep her attention fixed on James. But ever since their short holiday at the farm, they seemed inseparable. It was the closest she ever felt with him since they'd been married.

Martin cleared his throat loudly, seeing that Louisa was lost in her own world. "Dinner is ready," he said when she finally turned to look at him.

"Oh, sorry. I was just daydreaming." She stood up and shifted James to her hip, taking his blocks away and putting them back in his toy box.

"I see." He set down two baking dishes before removing his apron and taking a seat at the table.

James wriggled and squirmed in his high chair, wanting to get free. "You must be hungry, James," Louisa said as she began cutting some vegetables in small pieces.

James shook his head vigorously as his mother placed a large spoonful of green vegetables in his bowl.

"James Henry," Martin said, giving his son a stern look. "Vegetables are good for you."

James turned his head away from his father. "How about we come back to the vegetables, hmm?" Louisa suggested as she offered James a small chunk of potato. He reached out and began studying it, then deciding that it was safe enough, stuffed it into his mouth. Louisa began to laugh at her son's silliness, causing James to giggle as well.

Martin furrowed his brow, not quite understanding what was so funny.

"Where'd you get the salmon?" she asked, changing the subject.

Martin glanced up at her while cutting his asparagus. "The market in Wadebridge."

"Hmm."

He continued to watch her as she brought her fork up to her lips, perplexed as to why she seemed disappointed. "Is something wrong?" he finally asked.

Louisa let her fork and knife rest on the edge of her plate. She looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the obvious concern in his eyes. "No, I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"I see." He looked back down at his fish, unsure of what to say. After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat. "I've been looking online at beds for toddlers," he said. "For James." Martin glanced over at his son, who was staring down at his bowl of vegetables with a sour look.

Louisa raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Martin nodded. "There's a few that seem practical, safe, that is. I can show you after dinner if you'd like?"

Louisa cracked a slight smile, happy that he was including her in his research rather than making the decision all on his own. "Yes, Martin, I'd like that."

He grunted softly before finishing the last of his fish.

As Martin cleaned up the kitchen, Louisa was still trying to get James to eat his vegetables. "Just one little bite, James," she said, holding out a spoonful of peas. James turned his head away from her. Louisa sighed and turned towards Martin, feeling defeated. "He was never this picky as an infant."

"I'm sure it's just a phase children go through," Martin said as he turned to look at her from his position at the sink. "Wasn't there a certain food you disliked as a child?"

Louisa smiled as she began to reminisce. "Spinach. Just the sight of it used to make me feel nauseous."

"But you grew to like it?"

"Yes. I usually prefer it over lettuce now."

"Try not to worry, Louisa. As much as I want James to have a healthy diet, we can't exactly force him to eat things like when he was an infant. I'm sure if we keep exposing him to them, he'll eventually grow out of it."

Louisa sighed once more. "I suppose you're right." Then turning back to James, she tried once more to get him to eat his peas. "Alright, James." She held the spoon out to her son. "How about for Daddy? Can you eat one little bite for Daddy?"

James's face lit up at the mention of his father's name. He smiled and laughed, and Louisa took the opportunity to spoon the peas into his open mouth. "That'll do. Such a good boy!" she gushed as she watched James munch on his peas. "You know he adores you, Martin."

He pulled the plug in the sink and the soapy water gurgled as it swirled down the drain. "Yes, so I've heard." He moved to hang up his apron in the pantry. As he passed by James, he ran a hand over the toddler's head.

James looked up at his father with shining eyes. "Da-ee!" he squealed, leaning forward in his high chair, wanting to get free.

"Yes, James?" Martin said as he stopped to look down at his son.

"Up!" the toddler shouted, now raising his arms in the air.

Martin complied and bent his tall frame to hoist his son from his restricting high chair. "That better?"

James gave a slight nod of his head, enjoying being held up high. It made seeing things much easier for the toddler. He turned his head towards his mother, looking down at her. He started to laugh.

"What's so funny, James?" Louisa inquired with a slight quirk of her lips. She stood up from her chair and moved over to Martin. She kissed her little boy's fingers, making him giggle and squirm even more.

"Da-ee!" James leaned over to rest his head against Martin's chest, his features softening, looking sleepy.

"You like being with Daddy?" Louisa smiled and stepped forward to embrace her husband. "I like being with him too." She glanced up to give him a smile then kissed James's nose as she let her cheek rest against her husband's shoulder.

Martin wrapped his arm around Louisa as the three of them embraced. He looked down at the two people he loved most, feeling his chest swell with emotion. This was what it was like to feel happy, he thought. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around his family, not wanting to let go.

. . .

The next morning, Louisa left early to prepare for her afternoon meeting, leaving Martin in charge of getting James dressed and off to the nursery school on time.

By midday, Martin returned to collect James from the nursery, as promised. But he was not alone. While waiting in the lobby, he tried to ignore the furtive glances of the woman standing on the other side of the room. She was typing away on her mobile phone. From Martin's perspective she seemed young, with a slim physique and light hair. He tried not to stare, but the woman kept looking at him, for whatever reason he couldn't fathom. And on the fifth look, she hesitated, but confidently strolled over to him. "Excuse me?" she said, eyeing him up and down. "But are you Doc Martin?"

Martin scrunched his nose. He hated that title, given to him informally by the villagers of Portwenn. "It's Dr. Ellingham," he corrected her, with a slight edge of irritation to his voice.

"Oh, I see. Of course." She pushed her hair out of her face, showing off her bare left hand. "I just wanted to know if you make house calls?"

Martin frowned, noticing that she was moving closer to him. "I'm not in the habit of doing so, no. But if it's a genuine emergency and you aren't able-bodied, then yes I do make house calls."

"Oh, good!" Her voice grew shrill, causing Martin to curl his lip. "It's my daughter. She's six and she's been feeling awful the past couple of days. I rang the surgery the other day but your receptionist told me to go to Wadebridge instead."

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a few moments, as if she was expecting him to elaborate. "Do you think you could come and see her today, since you're here?"

Martin's frown deepened. "No. I won't be in my office this afternoon. You'll have to go to the surgery in Wadebridge like my receptionist said."

The woman let out a laugh and reached out to touch his upper arm. "It's just, I don't have a car . . ."

Martin looked down at the hand that was on his arm. He took a step back. "Then find someone to drive you."

The woman glanced down at the floor before nervously looking back up at the intimidating doctor. "Truth is, I don't really know anyone here. The kids and I just moved to Portwenn last month."

Martin remained oblivious to the woman's advances. "Would you like me to call you a taxi?" He was growing more irritated by the second. Why was he constantly surrounded by those left incompetent?

The woman chuckled. "No, I think I can mange, but thank you for the offer though."

"Mm." Martin glanced down at his watch, wondering what was taking so long.

"I'm a writer," she finally said, reaching into her flashy handbag for a pad and pen. "I work for a travel magazine based in Plymouth and ended up being sent out here to scope out the hills of Cornwall."

"I see."

She scribbled something down and tore off the piece of paper, holding it out to him. "In case there's anything interesting worth seeing," she said, flashing him a bright smile.

Martin stared at the woman's outstretched hand as if she had seven fingers. He could hear the sound of his son's voice echo from the hallway, and he turned away, distracted yet relieved that he could finally collect his son and be on his way.

"Da-ee!" James shouted, once he caught sight of his father. He pulled away from the teacher he was walking with and rushed over to Martin.

Martin bent over and picked up his son, settling him against his chest. "Hello, James." He stole a quick glance at the woman he was talking with earlier. She was watching him intently, making him feel somewhat perturbed.

"Your son is the cutest thing," she said, reaching out to tickle James's cheek.

Martin shifted James to his other arm, away from the woman. "Yes. Mm, goodbye." He turned to leave but she stopped him.

"My little boy's just a wee older." She stuffed the piece of paper he refused to take into the breast pocket of his suit. "Just in case," she said, tapping the pocket with a slender finger.

Martin creased his brow, still perplexed by this woman he knew nothing about. James was unsure what to make of her as well. His eyes followed her as she moved towards the teacher. "C'mon, James. Let's get you home," Martin said to his son as he turned and left the nursery.

An hour and a half later, Martin was waiting in an examination room at the hospital in Truro. He just finished with the X-rays of his shoulder and was waiting for his consultation with the orthopaedic specialist.

He sat on the crinkly disposable paper of the examination bench in his shirt and tie, watching the second hand of the clock tick by infinitely. He breathed out through his nose, not happy at being kept waiting.

Finally the door opened and the same specialist he saw the previous week stepped into the room. "Sorry for the wait, Dr. Ellingham," he said as he sat down on a stool with Martin's chart and X-ray images tucked under one arm. "How are we doing today?"

"Fine," Martin replied gruffly.

"Good." There was a brief silence as the doctor studied Martin's X-rays. He clicked open his pen and scribbled something down in the patient notes then snapped the folder shut. "Everything looks good, Dr. Ellingham," the specialist said, glancing up at Martin. "We can get rid of the sling and all that's left to do is some basic range of motion exercises - just to make sure there isn't any discomfort in your shoulder."

A crease formed between Martin's eyebrows. "How long is that going to take?"

"Shouldn't be more than half an hour. Once the physical therapist signs off, we can have you on your way again."

Martin exhaled a long breath. "But I can go back to seeing patients tomorrow, correct?"

The orthopaedic specialist smiled widely. "Yep. I talked with your old mate Chris Parsons this morning, who was pulling for your return back to work as soon as possible." He paused for a moment. "He thinks very highly of you, Dr. Ellingham."

Martin glanced away, feeling embarrassed. "Yes."

The specialist chuckled. "Alright, let's get that therapist down here, shall we?" He stood up and left the room, closing the door on his way out.

As promised, much to Martin's surprise, thirty minutes later he was back in the Lexus ready to head back to Portwenn. While driving through the shopping centre of the city, Martin noticed many of the shops had Valentine's Day displays out. The holiday was only two weeks away and Martin began to wonder if Louisa was going to make a big deal out of it. He groaned internally and slammed on the brakes, almost missing the red light of an intersection. He was never any good at romance. He tried poetry once in medical school, which ultimately didn't have the intended effect he planned on.

But it was different with Louisa. He wanted to give her everything because she deserved hearts and flowers. And suddenly an idea sparked. Instead of heading straight, Martin turned left at the light, heading down a side street.

Now back on the main road out of Truro, Martin glanced over at the passenger seat where a wrapped bouquet of flowers lay. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he imagined her reaction to his surprise. Perhaps he could be Mr. Hearts and Flowers after all.

Later that evening, as Martin was waiting for Louisa to come home, he sat on the sofa reading while James pushed his toy train around the tracks he constructed. He looked up from his reading for a minute to watch his son, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a slight grin.

He began to debate over what to prepare for dinner when the door of the kitchen rattled open. Martin turned to see Louisa step inside, her cheeks rosy from the crisp air and her ponytail askew from the blustery wind. "Hello," she said as she hung up her coat and scarf next to the door.

"Hello," Martin parroted, closing the leather-bound book he was reading. He watched as she made her way over to him.

"How was your appointment?" Louisa asked as she bent over to brush her hand over James's head.

"Fine. My shoulder's healed, so I can finally return to seeing patients tomorrow."

"That's great!"

Martin hesitated for a moment. "I, um, got you something on my way home from Truro."

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mm," he nodded, standing up from the sofa. "I'll be right back."

Louisa smiled at his retreating form, wondering what spurred him to purchase something for her. "Do you know what it is, James?" she asked her son. James didn't answer, more concerned with his train set than his mother's question.

"I got you some flowers," Martin said when he returned, holding out the bright and colourful bouquet from the top step of the kitchen.

Louisa looked at the array of light yellow and crème roses, garnished with bundles of greenery, and felt her insides melt. It was even more special than the dinner out they went on months ago via their therapist's instructions. She walked over to him slowly, not quite believing that this was the man she married. "Martin?" she breathed out, at a loss for words.

"I was driving through town and the shops had Valentine's Day displays out and I thought . . ." He glanced down at the bouquet in his outstretched hand.

Louisa took the bundle of flowers from him and on instinct, inhaled their scent. "They're lovely, Martin. Thank you."

He reached up to tug on his ear, feeling slightly uncomfortable having to explain himself. "The colours remind me of you," he said, gesturing to the flowers in her hands. "Bright, beautiful, and feminine."

Louisa shook her head. "Are you taking me out to dinner again? Like when Dr. Timoney said the two of us should spend time together as a couple."

Martin shook his head. "No, but I'll make you dinner instead."

Louisa smiled and stepped up in front of him. "I'd like that." She placed a hand on his cheek and leaned over to kiss him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"So you like them - the flowers, I mean?"

"Yes, Martin, I do. They're beautiful."

Like you, he wanted to say but the words failed to roll off his tongue. He cleared his throat. "Um, what would you like for dinner?"

Louisa shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"If we were to go out to a restaurant, what would you order?"

She thought for a moment. "Can you do a leek and potato soup? Maybe a salad to go with it?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yes. Thank you, Martin. I'll just go put these in some water." She moved around him towards the hutch to look for a vase of some kind.

As they ate their meal, Louisa felt it was almost better than sitting in a restaurant. It was quiet and just the three of them. James sat at the head of the table in his high chair, occupied by the piece of potato he was smushing with his hands. The flowers Martin had given her were placed in the centre of the table and Louisa couldn't help but feel touched by them. He bought them on impulse, something he rarely did, just to show her how much he loved her.

After dinner and a bath, James Henry fell asleep immediately once he was placed in his cot and his blankets tucked in around him. Louisa was already in bed, rubbing scented lotion over her hands when Martin entered their room.

He noticed she'd brought up the vase of flowers, which was sitting on top of the dresser. "You know those flowers won't get much sun up here during the day," he said as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of his pyjamas.

"I know. I just like looking at them. I'll move them back downstairs in the morning."

"I see." Martin absently pulled his phone out of the breast pocket of his suit, not seeing the piece of paper that stuck to his finger fall to the floor. He plugged in his phone and shrugged out of his jacket, then moved into the bathroom to change.

Louisa noticed the scrap of paper and moved around the bed to investigate. She assumed it was the receipt for the flowers he bought, but when she unfolded it, what was written took her by surprise. What was her husband doing with a woman's phone number? She narrowed her eyes at the name that was neatly written out on the paper then looked up at the closed bathroom door. She sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, wondering what to do. Maybe it was a patient and the handwriting was Morwenna's? The knob of the bathroom door turned and Louisa quickly hid the paper in the sleeve of her nightshirt.

"Something wrong?" Martin asked her when he came out of the bathroom holding his dirty clothes, noticing her anxious expression.

Louisa crossed her arms and shook her head. "No. Just waiting for you." She gave him a small smile and stood up to move back to her side of the bed. While he had his back to her, Louisa slipped the piece of paper between the cover of the book she had on her nightstand.

Once the room was dark, Martin couldn't seem to get comfortable. Louisa wasn't nestled up to his side like she usually was. It puzzled him. He turned his head to look at her. She was lying on her side away from him. He furrowed his brow. Did he do something wrong? he wondered. She said she liked the flowers, so what could be the problem?

Martin rolled on to his side and shifted closer to her. He hesitated but reached over to wrap his arm around her waist. She didn't react, but after a minute of interminable silence, he felt her pull his arm in closer, tightening their embrace. He let out a breath and buried his nose in her hair, feeling the day's exhaustion start to take over.

Louisa could feel Martin's light breathing against her neck. She laid there awake for what seemed like forever. Her gaze remained fixed on the book on her nightstand, knowing what was under the front cover. She tried not to worry. She knew Martin wasn't one of those men who found comfort elsewhere, but for some reason it unsettled her. Why wouldn't he tell her? Was he hiding something?

After watching the numbers on the digital clock tick past midnight, Louisa could finally feel her eyelids getting heavy. Martin was fast asleep next to her, his left arm still wrapped tightly around her waist. She reached for his hand again and felt for his wedding ring. She let her thumb follow the smooth edges of the metal, finding a bit of assurance that he would never go behind her back like that. Tomorrow she would ask. Not knowing would only prove to be disastrous. She laced her fingers through his and she felt him stir behind her but then settle. Closing her eyes, Louisa finally opted for sleep, letting her worry dissolve for the night.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

The next morning, Louisa was up before Martin. It was almost half past five. Sitting at the kitchen table, still dressed in her pajamas, Louisa tried concentrating on the paperwork in front of her, but couldn't. She stole a quick glance at one of the many clocks adorning their home, knowing that at any minute Martin would be up and in the shower.

She began to grow more anxious, feeling her knee bounce with each passing second. Finally hearing the creak of the floorboards from above, Louisa sank her teeth into her lower lip. But she knew she had to compose herself once Martin came down. She had to be calm and straightforward with him if they were to resolve this.

Once she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, Louisa straightened her back and relaxed the muscles in her face.

"Louisa?" Martin said as he came around the corner into the living room. "What are you doing up so early?"

Louisa stared at him for a moment, holding her hands together in her lap. "I didn't sleep very well."

He stopped halfway between the kitchen and living room. "I see. You know you're still wearing your pajamas, right?"

She ignored his observation, deciding to get to the point instead. "Sit down, Martin," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Martin furrowed his brow, puzzled as to why she was acting like this so early in the morning. But he obliged, stepping up into the kitchen to sit down across from her. "Is something the matter, Louisa?"

Louisa glanced down at her hands, unsure of how to go about this. When she finally looked up at him, she could see the confusion in his eyes. "Martin, be honest with me. You promised me that we'd tell each other everything."

"Yes. Louisa, I don't understand . . ."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She lifted the stack of paperwork in front of her to reveal the piece of paper she had hidden upstairs under the cover of her novel. She pushed it across the table towards him, feeling like one of those TV detectives questioning a suspect over evidence.

Martin looked down at the scrap of paper, having no idea what to make of it. Yes, he remembered that obnoxious woman stuffing it into his pocket, but never gave it a second thought. He didn't think it was relevant. "Tell you what?"

Louisa brought her hands out from under the table and crossed her arms, leaning over on to her elbows. "Why do you have this woman's phone number?"

Martin frowned. Was that what this was really about? he wondered. "Louisa, don't be ridiculous," he scoffed.

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't think I was. But just answer the bloody question, Martin."

"For God's sake," he muttered to himself. He let out a sigh and brought his hands up to his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "She was at the nursery school yesterday afternoon while I was waiting to collect James. She kept looking at me and then the next thing I know she's nattering on about her sick daughter and her work and -"

"What do you mean she was looking at you?" Louisa interjected.

Martin sighed once more. "She was trying to discern if I was the GP."

"I see."

Martin couldn't take her questioning any longer. He stood up sharply, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor. "Louisa, you're worrying over nothing. I have to shower and get dressed. I have a busy day ahead of me."

Her frown turned to a glare. "Don't you dare walk away from me, Martin. We're not done discussing this."

Martin gripped the back of his chair, so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't want to argue with her, but that was exactly where they were headed if he didn't get out of there. "I don't understand what the problem is, Louisa. It's just a piece of paper with a string of numbers written on it."

Now Louisa was standing. "Yes, it is a bunch of numbers. From a _woman_ , Martin." Her voice had risen and her arms were gesturing wildly. "And you didn't even bother to tell me yesterday!"

Her anger reminded him of the afternoon he ruined Sports Day for her. "Because I forgot it was in my pocket!" he shouted across the table at her. The vehemence in his own voice startled him and he took a few steps back, afraid he would lash out at her.

They were silent for a minute as they stared at each other from across the kitchen. Then Louisa's features softened as tears welled up in her eyes. "Martin, when I saw that woman's name on that piece of paper, I thought . . ." She paused to take in a deep breath. "I thought that you didn't love me anymore - that you'd found somebody else." She finally let out a sob as her tears began to run down her cheeks.

Martin moved around the table and took her into his arms, holding her close as she cried into his shoulder. "Louisa," he began softly, "you know that's not true. You mean everything to me. I would never hurt you like that." He felt her nod against him, her hair tickling the side of his neck. He let his hand rest at the back of her head, keeping her close. "Please don't worry over this, Louisa. That woman was obnoxious and held no concern whatsoever over invading my personal space."

Louisa glanced up at him. "She what?"

Martin looked down at her, feeling caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. "Mm, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to get James and leave. I never gave her or her phone number a second thought. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Louisa wrapped her arms around his middle, holding on to him tightly. "And I'm sorry for putting you through my questioning, especially this early in the morning."

"Mm," he grunted. "It wasn't so bad."

Louisa laughed. "That was a joke, Martin." She finally smiled. "Very good."

His expression fell serious. "I do love you, Louisa. I hope you don't doubt that."

She untangled her arms from around his middle to smooth her hands up the front of his pyjama top, lacing them behind his neck. "Deep down, I've never doubted it, Martin. I've always known how you felt about me." She leaned up on her toes to kiss him soundly, then hugged him tightly. "I wish you didn't have surgery this morning," she said quietly next to his ear.

He pulled away from her, creasing his brow in confusion. "Of course I would. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'd rather sleep in . . . with you, if you know what I mean." She gave him a teasing grin, hoping he'd take her hint.

Martin's cheeks turned pink as he finally understood what she meant by "sleeping in". "I see."

Her grin widened, showing him that beautiful smile of hers. "Do you really?"

He nodded. "Mm, I suppose I'll have to make it up to you, then."

The fingers of her right hand found their way under the collar of his pyjama shirt. "I'd like that, Martin."

Martin swallowed hard, trying to control himself with the feel of his wife's fingertips caressing the skin over the hollow of his throat and the indentation of his collarbone. "Louisa, I really need to start getting ready . . ."

"I know. Just one more question?"

"Hmm, what?"

"The flowers. Did you really buy them on impulse - for me?"

"Of course I did. I told you. The Valentine's Day displays gave me the idea."

Louisa removed her wandering hand and repositioned it against the curve of his cheek. "Okay. I believe you." And she did. He never lied to her, not once since they'd been together.

"This Valentine's Day holiday. Are you expecting anything special? I mean, do I have to plan something?"

Louisa tilted her head to the side. She hadn't thought about it either. "I don't know, Martin. I haven't really thought about it that much."

That was no help, he thought. "Neither have I."

She played with the short hairs at the back of his neck. "We don't have to do anything special, Martin. It's just another day on the calendar. Just being with you is all I need."

"Mm, me too." He pulled her closer to him. "Is everything alright now? I mean, you're not cross with me anymore?"

Louisa shook her head. "No, Martin, I'm not cross with you anymore. I just feel so stupid accusing you like that. I know you'd never skip out on me for somebody else. It's not who you are."

"And you know me better than anyone."

She grinned slightly. "Yes, I suppose I do."

Martin was silent for a moment as he looked down at her. "I promise to tell you everything, even if it's just a piece of paper with numbers written on it. I don't like to see you upset or hurting. I'm the reason we almost fell apart in the first place. And I don't want that to happen again. Because I can't bear to be without you, Louisa."

"I know, Martin. I can't bear to be without you either." She squeezed her eyes shut as she hugged him fiercely, feeling another round of tears start to fall.

Martin let out a quiet breath of relief as he dipped his head to rest against hers. Everything was alright. He wished he never met that woman yesterday, but their arguments seemed to bring he and Louisa closer together, rather than pull them apart like they used to. "I should get James up," he heard her say against the side of his neck.

Louisa pulled away from him, smiling slightly as she wiped at her wet cheeks. "You can have the bathroom first while I get James ready."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Do you want anything special for breakfast?" she asked before turning to head for the stairs.

"No, whatever you decide is fine."

"Okay." She gave him another smile and a quick peck on the cheek, then made a dash for the stairs.

Martin let out another breath as he watched her leave the kitchen. He turned to look back at the table, seeing her paperwork jumbled in an untidy mess. The paper with the woman's phone number was still resting near the edge of the table. He picked it up and moved to dispose of it in the bin under the sink. Then turning around, he started shuffling Louisa's school papers back into a neat pile before heading upstairs to get ready for the day.

. . .

"Next patient, Morwenna!" Martin shouted through the open door of his consulting room.

Morwenna snapped her head up at the doc's angry tone. It was a slow morning and she was busy browsing the Internet for wedding dresses in an effort to help Janice. There was still so much to plan.

She switched back to her appointment scheduler to see who was next. "You're up, Mr. Hammond," she said, finding the patient's gaze across the waiting room.

"Thanks, Morwenna," he said as he took the sleeve of notes from her outstretched hand. "Any luck with that weddin' stuff?"

"It's still a work in progress I'm afraid." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Good luck with the Doc."

"Thanks." He returned her smile and shuffled over to the consulting room.

Martin glanced up from his writing once he noticed his patient step into the room. "Take a seat," he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

Mr. Hammond handed Martin his patient notes, as well as the test results from Truro he was instructed to bring. The room grew silent as Martin looked over the documents.

"Your nerve conduction study shows a significantly slow conduction velocity," Martin began as he looked up at his patient.

"Define slow?" Mr. Hammond asked, furrowing his brow.

"It means the signals your nerves are conducting are much slower than what one would expect for a man of your age."

"So is this nerve conduction thing serious, then?"

"Mm, it is something to keep an eye on. A slow conduction velocity is usually due to a traumatic injury. Various diseases can also cause damage." He paused to quickly scan over his patient's medical history. "I know you've had a few falls and minor injuries recently, but have there ever been any serious medical concerns over the last forty years?"

Mr. Hammond thought for a moment as he looked down at his bandaged hand. "No, don't think so," he replied, shaking his head from side to side.

Martin sighed. "Either you know or you don't, Mr. . . . Hammond."

"No, nothing."

"Right." Martin glanced back down at the results. "And looking at your EMG, you have abnormal electrical activity in the muscles of your right arm."

"Again, define abnormal?"

Martin sighed once more. "In an individual with healthy functioning nerves, there should be no electrical activity when the muscle is at rest. But your results do show activity."

Mr. Hammond was silent for a moment, trying to digest what the doctor was explaining to him. "In a nutshell, what seems to be wrong with me, Doc?"

"From what I've seen of your results, you're at a great risk of developing neuropathy or myopathy, or even muscular dystrophy. It's hard to say which at this stage. Neurodegenerative diseases and muscle disorders are fairy difficult to place a definitive diagnosis, usually until it's too late."

Mr. Hammond took in a deep breath, trying to accept the news. "So what do we do, Doc?"

Martin laced his fingers together on the surface of his desk. "We wait." He could see Mr. Hammond looked disappointed. "Look, Mr. Hammond, I can't prescribe you anything until I have a definitive diagnosis in place. Diseases like this are fairly tricky, they vary from person to person. What I suggest is that you stay hydrated, drink plenty of fluids, get adequate rest, as well as light exercise or movement to keep the muscles healthy. And we'll monitor your progress from week to week."

Mr. Hammond nodded. "I understand, Doc."

"Mr. Hammond, this is very serious, especially since you live by yourself . . ."

Mr. Hammond snapped his head up. "What do you mean? I'm not moving into a home!"

Martin creased his brow. "I wasn't suggesting you to. What I meant to say is that you need to be careful and conscientious of your health. Degenerative diseases can develop rapidly or fairly slow. It depends on the individual."

Mr. Hammond stood up quickly, almost knocking his chair to the floor. "That's all I am to you, aren't I? An individual to chart the progress of my death."

"Don't be ridiculous. Mr. Hammond?" Martin stood up just as his patient stormed out of the room. He scrambled to catch up with the old man. "I still need to check the stitches in your hand!"

Mr. Hammond waved his bandaged hand in a dismissive gesture as he left the surgery.

Morwenna turned towards Martin, her mouth slightly agape. "What did you say to that poor man?"

"I didn't say anything," he replied defensively. "I just explained his test results."

Morwenna shook her head. "He was a good friend of my granddad you know, used to look after me sometimes when Mum and Dad weren't home." She pointed a finger at him. "You better make things right, Doc."

"For God's sake," he muttered to himself, then snapped his fingers at her. "Send in the next patient."

Morwenna sighed and handed him the next patient's notes. "Joe Penhale."

Martin curled his lip as the policeman jumped up from his chair. "God."

"Just a routine check-up, Doc," Penhale said as he followed Martin to the consulting room. "But Morwenna's right. You really should make things right with Mr. Hammond."

Martin eyed the constable as he let Penhale go through first. "Duly noted. Now unbutton your shirt and take a seat on the examination table."

. . .

Once the surgery was closed for the day, Martin remained in his consulting room, staring down at his biro, lost in thought. He heard a knock on the doorframe and looked up to see Louisa standing in the doorway. James stood by her side, holding her hand. "Is everything alright?" she asked, giving him a weak smile. "You've been in here for quite a while."

Martin shook his head. "I was just finishing up something."

"Okay. Well, I'm going to start dinner if that's alright with you?"

"Yes." He gazed over at James. It looked like he was going through a growth spurt. To Martin, he seemed taller than he was yesterday.

"C'mon, James, you can help Mummy." She pulled gently on his hand and he complied, but not before he could wave goodbye to his father.

Martin grinned slightly and raised his right hand to wave to his son. He heard James let out a laugh as he and Louisa disappeared from the doorway. His gaze drifted back down to his desk. He picked up his biro and began spinning it around his fingers, thinking about what Morwenna said earlier. Reaching for his laptop, he flipped open the screen and started a search in the medical database he often used for research.

Folding the papers he printed out into the inside breast pocket of his suit, Martin left his office and headed for the kitchen. "I, um, have to go out for a few minutes," he said to Louisa.

She was busy stirring something in a pot. "Now?" she said, turning to look at him.

"Yes."

"Martin, dinner will be ready soon, can't it wait?"

"I won't be gone long, I promise."

Louisa eyed him curiously. "Okay. But take your phone with you and put on a coat. It's cold out there."

"Yes." He moved around the table, pausing to swipe his fingers over James's head, then reached for his overcoat, which was hanging by the kitchen door.

Louisa turned to watch as he left the house. She sighed internally, wondering what was so important that he needed to leave just as they were about to have dinner. Looking at James, he seemed just as confused as she was.

Martin walked fast, feeling the cold seep through the woolen fabric of his overcoat. When he reached the correct house, he knocked twice. "Mr. Hammond, it's Dr. Ellingham!" he shouted, hoping the old man could hear him. But there was no answer. Peering through the window, it looked as if nobody was home. The lights were off. He let out a sigh, wondering where the man would be at this time of day. He turned and left, deciding that maybe his aunt knew something.

"Martin?" Ruth said as she cracked open the door to reveal her nephew. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home with the family?"

"Yes. But I need to see Mr. Hammond and he's not home. I was wondering if you knew where he might be?"

"Hmm. Well he's not here if that's what you're thinking." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Try the cemetery. He usually likes to walk up there in the mornings."

"Thank you." And then he was off.

"Why is it so urgent that you speak with him now?" Ruth called after her nephew as she watched him head down her footpath, out of earshot.

Martin glanced at his watch as he made the trek up to the cemetery. Louisa was not going to be happy. He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

"Martin, is something wrong?" she said once she answered her phone.

"No. I'm just going to be a bit longer than I thought. I'm sorry." He heard her sigh through the phone.

"Well, Martin what am I going to do about dinner? James and I are sitting here waiting for you."

"You'll just have to eat without me, Louisa."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. There's no sense in waiting for me."

"Alright. I'll save a little something for when you get back."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'll be home soon, don't worry." He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. When he finally reached the cemetery at the top of the hill, overlooking the village, the sun was just starting to set below the horizon. He gazed about, finally spotting a head of white hair standing in front of a gravestone.

"Mr. Hammond?" Martin called out as he approached the old man.

Mr. Hammond turned around. "What do you want?" he asked, seeing the doctor heading towards him.

"I just want to apologise for this morning. I didn't mean to upset you."

Mr. Hammond turned back to his wife's gravestone. "It's alright, Doc. This is my problem, not yours."

Martin watched as the old man bent down to adjust the flowers at his wife's grave. He hesitated but reached into his suit for the documents he printed out earlier. "I, um, brought you some guidelines and instructions on how to deal with degenerative diseases and muscular disorders."

Mr. Hammond stood up straight, and for a moment, stared at the papers in the doctor's outstretched hand. "I thought you said you didn't have a diagnosis for me?" He took the papers and scanned over the first page.

"I don't. But signs and symptoms, what to look out for, are all outlined in these documents. I was hoping it might help."

"With what?" Mr. Hammond folded the sheets of paper in half and glanced back up at Martin. "Help me cope? Explain how I'm gonna die?"

"Yes . . . But my point is that I want you to be aware of what can happen if you don't take care of yourself properly."

The old man turned away from Martin to watch the sun set. "You know I come up here every morning?" he said, changing the subject.

Martin grimaced internally. He wasn't looking for a heart to heart chat. "No. But my aunt informed me that you do."

"Ruth." Mr. Hammond smiled. "She's a nice woman. A little forward at times, but good company. I enjoy talking with her."

Martin was growing uncomfortable talking about his aunt. "Mm. She seems to enjoy your company as well."

"We met up here a couple of weeks ago. She was bringing flowers for her sister I think."

Martin raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear that Ruth visited Joan's grave. He felt a bit guilty that he hadn't once come up to visit her. "Yes, my other aunt - Joan. She, um, passed away - almost two years now."

Mr. Hammond turned to face Martin. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. Is this your wife's grave you visit every morning?" Martin gestured to the marble gravestone they were standing in front of.

"Yes. I come up here every morning and we watch the sun rise together." He paused for a minute. "It's different at night though. It's still peaceful, but I just feel like sometimes the darkness will swallow me whole and that'll be the end of it."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not following," Martin said, his face scrunched in confusion.

"What I'm saying is that every morning I'm grateful I get to walk up here and watch the sun rise with my wife. And I don't have to worry about ending everything because I don't feel alone when I'm up here. But you," he looked towards Martin. "You have a family. Enjoy every second with them, Martin. Is it alright if I call you Martin?" The doctor was hesitant but nodded. "As I was saying, enjoy every moment with your family. Because life can change at the drop of a hat."

Martin remained silent as he listened to the old man standing next to him. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.

"My wife and I never had children, but I'd like to think I would have a made a decent father. And you're decent, Martin. Intelligent, a little brash, but you're a good man at heart. Be there for that son of yours. He'll look up to you in time."

Martin hesitated, not sure if he wanted to voice his thoughts. "I do my best with James, and Louisa says he adores me, but I'm just afraid I'll disappoint him. My own father was never affectionate towards me or approving. And I don't want to be like that - like him. James deserves a good father and I just don't know if I can be that for him, based on how I was raised."

"Of course you can, Martin."

Martin looked down at his shoes. The wind was starting to pick up and he could feel the temperature drop as the sun was almost set. "Thank you. You know I don't really talk . . . openly, that is, about myself."

Mr. Hammond grinned. "I don't really either, but here we are."

"Yes. Will you, um, give those health guidelines I gave you a chance?"

Mr. Hammond stuffed the folded documents into his coat. "I'll give it a try."

"I'll do some additional research, but there's really nothing I can do until things have progressed."

"I understand." Mr. Hammond stuck out his arm, smiling. "It was nice talking with you, Martin."

Martin shook the man's hand. "Mr. Hammond. And while you're here I should have a look at that other hand." He pointed to the hand that was bandaged.

"How about I come in first thing tomorrow morning? It's a bit cold out here."

Martin was sceptical, but eventually agreed. "First thing tomorrow morning."

"I'll be there, Doc."

"Good." With his hands in his pockets and one more gaze over the rows of headstones, Martin turned and headed for the entrance of the cemetery.

When he finally arrived back at the surgery, the kitchen was clean and tidy. There was no sign of Louisa and James, so he hung up his coat and ventured upstairs.

He found his wife and son curled up in their bed. James was asleep next to his mother, Louisa's arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close to her. "Louisa?" he said quietly, but she didn't stir. His fingers twitched at his sides, wondering what to do.

He toed out of his shoes and unbuttoned his suit. Laying down next to his wife and son, Martin pulled an arm up behind his head and watched them. He reached out to trace his finger around the curve of James's ear and the toddler stirred, opening his eyes at the sensation.

James turned to find his father lying next to him. He blinked several times, still feeling sleepy. He opened his mouth to yawn and Martin put a finger to his lips, hoping he'd be quiet.

"Shh, James," Martin whispered. "We don't want to wake your mother."

James scrambled up on his knees and crawled over to his father, situating himself against his side.

Martin wrapped his right arm around his son, remembering what Mr. Hammond said about being a good father. "I'll be there for you, James. I might not be perfect, but I'm doing my best to be the father that you deserve."

James reached out and grabbed his father's fingers. Martin smiled slightly. He was too engrossed at James's fascination with his fingers that he missed Louisa smiling next to him, not realising that she had heard what he'd said.

"Shall we read a story, James?" Martin suggested. "Let your mother rest?"

"Story!" James shouted.

"Shh." Martin put his finger up to his lips to quiet James. "We need to be very quiet, James." He sat up and scooped James into his arms. He looked down at Louisa, who was still sleeping, and decided that he was going to do something special for her on Valentine's Day. Like Mr. Hammond said, he was going to enjoy every moment with his family, and if that meant stepping out of his comfort zone to make Louisa and James happy, then so be it, because they deserved it.


	31. Chapter 31

**I'm sorry for the long wait (again), but things have been very busy and hectic for me lately (thanks to my biochemistry major). I posted two chapters instead of one since I felt that it was too long as a whole. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait!**

Chapter Thirty-one

In the week since Martin's return to work after the incident with his shoulder, the surgery seemed busier than ever. Martin hardly had a moment's peace throughout his day, constantly battling whinging patients and shooing away desperate malingerers.

It was almost eleven in the morning and he turned back down to his desk, not giving his latest patient with crutches a second look or an offer to help open the door. He finished his writing and slipped his notes back into the patient's corresponding sleeve then pulled out his diary. He had the fourteenth of February circled in black ink. Five days, he thought to himself, and he was no closer in coming up with an idea than he was a week ago. He never took Valentine's Day seriously; he never had a reason to until now. He didn't know who to ask for advice either. He wanted it to be simple but special, at least for Louisa. He thought about taking her out to dinner, but decided that wasn't original enough.

He let out a sigh and checked his watch. One hour until James needed to be collected from nursery school. Louisa usually picked him up, knowing that Martin's schedule could be erratic and unpredictable at times. But the afternoon was looking pretty clear, weather-wise, and there was something he'd been meaning to do all week. He stood up from his chair and headed out to the waiting room.

"Morwenna," Martin said as he approached her desk.

"Yeah, Doc?" Her eyes were glued to the screen of her computer.

"Do I have any openings this afternoon?" He placed his hands on the edge of her desk and leaned over to get a look at his schedule and frowned. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp and irritated.

"I'm in the middle of an online bid, Doc," she said, not turning to look at him.

"Well, switch it off. I need to have a look at my schedule."

"Janice and I found this gorgeous wedding dress online and as maid of honour it's my duty to keep the bride happy."

Martin moved around her to switch off the monitor but she batted his hands away. "Ah, don't you dare!" she exclaimed. "I've only got ten minutes left and this dress is mine, well technically it'll be Janice's -"

"Morwenna," he interrupted her. "I don't care about a wedding dress. I need to see my schedule."

"I printed it out for you. It's over there by the printer." She jabbed a thumb behind her in the general direction of the printer.

He eyed her for a moment then turned and snatched up the piece of paper. "Mm, right. But switch that off. This isn't an auction house."

"Sure thing. Just eight more minutes, Doc, I promise." Morwenna finally looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

Martin let out a breath from his nose. "Fine. Eight minutes."

"Thanks. Oh, I crossed out your eleven-thirty. There was a cancellation."

Martin looked down at the large _X_ drawn in bright blue ink on his schedule. Now he had an extra thirty minutes on top of lunch, meaning he could collect James if he wanted to. "Yes, thank you. Next patient!" he hollered as he surveyed the few patients left in the waiting room. A young man stood up with a white cloth pressed to his left eye. Martin could see the few droplets of blood seeping through the material and breathed in deeply. Just what he needed before lunch, he thought. "Go through," he said, extending a hand towards his consulting room. He took in another deep breath as he tried to steady himself.

"Everything alright, Doc?" Morwenna asked him, looking up from her computer to see the doctor's paled complexion.

"Yes." Smoothing a hand down the front of his suit, Martin followed his patient through to his consulting room.

. . .

Before leaving to collect James, Martin texted Louisa that she didn't have to stop by the nursery school that afternoon. He was just putting on his coat when his phone chirped. He read her reply: _Ok, thank you Martin. I'm sure James will be delighted. I'll see you later tonight_. He typed out a quick reply and stuffed the device into his coat pocket then wheeled James's empty pushchair out the kitchen door.

"Are you warm, James?" Martin asked as he pushed James up a hill a short time later.

James fidgeted under his blanket, trying to turn around to look at his father, but was restricted by the safety strap. He clapped his hands instead and shouted, "Dog!" He pointed frantically at Buddy, who was bounding down the hill towards them.

"Oh, no!" Martin shouted as the white terrier scurried over, jumping up and barking happily at James, who squealed in delight at the sounds. "Go away!" Martin tried shoving the dog away with his foot, but to no avail.

"Dog!" James kept shouting.

"Leave me alone!" Martin hissed to the canine as Buddy looked up at him with large black eyes, panting for breath, his tail wagging prominently.

"Something wrong, Doc?" a voice called out from behind.

Martin turned and frowned as the image of Bert Large came shuffling up the street behind him, clad in his thick blue jumper and woolen cap. "No, we were just on our way." He made to get a move on before the whiskey entrepreneur could catch up, but the portly man was much quicker than Martin thought.

"Out with little James, I see," Bert said as he came up beside Martin and peered around the pushchair to get a look at James.

"Yes."

"My boy said you and Louisa and the little one were staying at the farm a few weeks ago?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a good time?" Bert asked the toddler, his brow raised in question.

James stared back at Bert for a moment then leaned over to touch the man's sleeve.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Bert, if you don't mind, there's someplace I need to be," Martin said, desperate to get rid of the man.

"Oh, sure." Bert stepped away from James, smiling. "It just takes me back to when Al was his age," he nodded towards James.

"I see."

"But then Al's mother was still alive and she was so good with him, better than I was, in fact . . ."

Martin frowned. "I'm sure that's comforting for you, but we really must get on . . ."

"Right you are, Doc," Bert said, stepping aside, watching as the doctor strolled past him.

"Oh, go away!" Martin shouted as Buddy continued to follow he and James up the street.

Finally, after five minutes of walking Martin managed to lose the dog, who wandered off at the first scent of food peeking out of an overturned garbage bin. "Good riddance," Martin muttered to himself as he watched Buddy scurry off to a narrow walkway. "Nearly there, James."

James remained quiet as Martin pushed him the rest of the way to the cemetary. The gravel pathway was not kind to the wheels of the pushchair, and Martin quickly grew frustrated at having to stop every few steps to reorient the chair back in the right direction.

When he reached the correct headstone, Martin paused to take in a deep breath. He stared at his aunt's name, carved into the marble stone in a classic, large script, his Uncle Phil buried next to her. He reached down and undid the safety strap then pulled James up into his arms. "This is your Great Aunt Joan, James," Martin said as he turned back to face the front of the headstone. "She never had the chance to meet you."

James reached out to touch the cold marble, and Martin let him, feeling somewhat saddened that the two never met. "She was like a mother to me," he started to say but stopped himself, feeling somewhat ridiculous at talking to a piece of stone. But if Louisa was with him she would have encouraged him to say something. "Um, it's me, Auntie Joan . . . Martin." He dug the heel of his shoe into the dying grass as he glanced down at the wilting flowers at his aunt's grave. He should have picked up a fresh bunch. Maybe next time, he thought. "I'm doing well, keeping busy with work. Um, Louisa and I are married now, and James is nearly two. He's growing very fast." He paused to shift the weight of his son to his other arm. "I feel ridiculous talking to no one, but it's what Louisa would have wanted me to do if she were with me."

Martin took in a deep breath as he looked past the cemetery to the sea in the distance. It was partly sunny, not a dark cloud in sight, and yet the water still seemed to sparkle from up above on the hill. "Ruth visits you sometimes, I think. I'm sorry it took me so long to come up here. I just haven't found the time." He paused for a minute. "I miss you, Auntie Joan." He cleared his throat and looked away, feeling his eyes start to water. "Um, Al's been managing the farm as a B&B so there's no need for you to worry." James was beginning to kick his legs so Martin set him down on the grass, then took hold of his hand so he couldn't run off.

"And James is walking now . . . talking to some extent as well. I wish you could see him." Martin reached up to wipe away the string of tears that managed to roll down his cheek, knowing that his aunt would have spoiled his son as any grandmother would. He cleared his throat again. "I know you'd be proud - Louisa told me you would be. I want you to know, Auntie Joan, even though I know it's impossible for you to hear me, that I'm very happy with Louisa and James. I just wish you were here to share it with." He stopped and glanced down at James. The toddler looked up at him, his gloved hand stuck in his mouth.

As he looked out at the cliffs on either side lining the ocean, Martin felt that maybe somewhere his aunt was watching over him. He was no longer the little boy who used to sit with her by the cliff edge and watch for boats coming into the harbour. He had his own little boy to watch the boats with.

"Look, James," Martin said after a few minutes, seeing a white shape nearing the harbour. He picked James up and held him up high against his shoulder. He pointed with his finger as a fishing boat was returning to the village. "There's a boat, James."

"Boat!" James shouted back, following his father's line of sight. He started to laugh.

Martin watched the smile on his son's face, happy that he was the one to cause it. He wondered what Louisa would have thought if she found them standing up here. Maybe next time he'd invite her to join them; she'd like that. But for now, Martin was content with spending his alone time with James. He took one more look at his aunt's headstone before turning away to settle James back in his pushchair.

Later that same day, Martin was getting ready for his last patient of the day. He was due to visit Mr. Hammond to check up on the man's progress.

"Done shopping, I see," Martin said as he strolled through the waiting room, his medical bag clutched in his left hand.

Morwenna looked up from her computer monitor, ignoring his sarcastic remark. "Yes. And I'll have you know I did get the dress."

"Hmm. I'm sure your sister will be very grateful."

Morwenna shook her head at his inability to remember people. "Janice isn't my sister, Doc. She's my closest friend."

"I see."

"Do you want me to stay until you get back or should I lock up now?"

Martin glanced down at his watch. "No, you can go. Louisa should be home soon."

Morwenna smiled and tapped her pen against the surface of her desk."Thanks, Doc. Have a good night."

"Yes." Giving his receptionist a brief nod, Martin left the surgery and began his leisurely walk to Mr. Hammond's cottage.

"Martin, come in!" Mr. Hammond exclaimed as he stepped aside to let the doctor enter.

Martin averted his eyes from the old man's smiling face, still not quite comfortable with being on a first name basis with one of his patients. "How have you been since we last spoke?" Martin asked, stepping through to the study.

Mr. Hammond sat down at his desk while Martin remained standing. "Good, I guess you could say. My hand's been feelin' a lot better." He held up his bandaged hand.

"Let me take a look." Martin unwrapped the gauze and peeled away the thick plaster, taking note of any sign of infection. "It looks good. These stitches are ready to come out."

Mr. Hammond stiffened in his chair. "Will it hurt?"

"No of course not." Martin reached for his medical bag and pulled out an antiseptic cotton swab. He then began cleaning the area before meticulously removing each suture.

"I'm just afraid it'll start to bleed again," Mr. Hammond said. "I'm like you in that regard; can't stand the sight of blood."

"Shh," Martin shushed him, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. "This will go faster if you stop talking."

The room was silent as Martin finished removing the last of the stitches. When he was done, he cleaned the palm of Mr. Hammond's hand once more before placing a large plaster over the area. "There we are."

"How long will I have to wear the bandage?"

"The skin should be fully healed within a day or so," Martin said while rubbing his hands together with disinfectant. "Though there might be remnants of a scar."

Mr. Hammond nodded. "Would you like some tea?" the old man offered as he moved to get up from his chair.

"No . . . thank you. I still have to examine you."

Mr. Hammond sat back down as the doctor began palpating his lower limbs and eventually moving up to his fingers and arms. "Well?"

Martin pulled off his gloves with a snap then shoved them into a compartment in his medical bag. "No significant change since last time. Are you keeping hydrated? Getting enough sleep at night?"

Mr. Hammond nodded. "Most of the time. Though it's been difficult for me to get to sleep these past few days."

"I see. Do you have aches and pains in your limbs?"

"Not as such. What with the holiday coming up it's been hard being on my own."

Martin sighed. "I see. You miss . . . ?"

Mr. Hammond nodded. "Yes. She always liked Valentine's Day - the flowers and all that." The man paused for a moment. "What about you?"

Martin creased his brow. "What about me?"

"Are you and your wife doing anything special?"

Martin remained quiet, unsure if he wanted to reveal his secret or not. "Yes, well it's going to be a surprise."

Mr. Hammond smiled as he leaned forward in his chair, desperate to hear more. "And?"

"And what? There's nothing to tell. I haven't come up with anything yet."

Mr. Hammond slapped a hand down on the arm of his chair. "You know what? We'll brainstorm then." He stood up. "I'll make us some tea."

"No, that won't be necessary," Martin said, but the old man was already heading for his kitchen. Good God, he thought to himself. This was why he didn't get too close with his patients.

"Milk and sugar alright?" the old man asked once the tea was ready.

"Um, milk, no sugar," Martin replied, deciding he might as well humour the old man. He was on his own after all.

When he returned to the study, Mr. Hammond set their tea down on a side table and pulled over a chair for Martin. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. "Biscuit?" he offered but Martin shook his head.

Martin set down his half empty cup of tea as he gazed up and down the many bookshelves of the study. "Are you a collector?" Martin asked, taking note of a few early editions of classic literature.

Mr. Hammond set his cup down on his desk. "Sort of. I used to teach English and History."

"Professor?"

"Yes. For thirty-five years. I loved it." He sighed. "But I'm much too old for it now." He stopped to ponder for a moment. "Isn't your wife a teacher?"

Martin nodded. "Yes, but she's the headmistress now."

"I thought so. I used to see her take classes up to Rosstree Field for lessons of some sort."

"Yes."

"How long have the two of you been married again?"

Martin fidgeted with one of his cuff links. "Almost a year."

"But you had your son before then?"

Martin let out a long sigh. "Look, Mr. Hammond, I appreciate you trying to be my friend and all but I'm your doctor and you're my patient. There's a limit to what can and can't be said."

"I'm sorry if it's a touchy subject for you, I didn't realise. I'm sorry."

Martin cleared his throat. "Yes." They were silent for some time, both unsure of what to say. Smoothing out the ends of his suit, Martin shifted in his chair, breathing in deeply. "We were on-again-off-again for a while - Louisa and I . . ." And without hesitancy, Martin began to tell the story of how he and Louisa finally came together in holy matrimony.

"I think it's a lovely story," Mr. Hammond said after Martin finished.

" _Lovely?_ " Martin scrunched his nose in disagreement. "More like a disaster waiting to happen, at least that's how my Aunt saw the two of us."

"But in its own way romantic."

Martin grunted as he finished the last of his tea. "I suppose."

"You should take your wife back to that concert you said the two of you attended."

"It's February. This is hardly the time of year for an outdoor concert. And surely that band is no longer together." Martin curled his lip as he thought of Louisa's school friend who played the cello and stupidly injured her back.

"But there are other concerts - indoors, that is."

Martin thought for a moment. He wasn't sure. I mean, take Louisa out to a concert? If the first time didn't go well, who was to say the second time would be any better? "I don't know. I'm not very good with romance and all that. I insulted her on our first date and practically ruined everything between us."

"Well now's your chance to do it right this time."

"I'll think about it, but I'm just not sure if it's a good idea. I know I'll say something wrong . . ."

"Then stop yourself when you do."

"It's not that simple." Martin absently glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening at the time. "It's getting late. I should really be going." He stood up and reached for his medical bag. "Um, thank you, Mr. Hammond, for the tea . . . and um, talking with me."

Mr. Hammond struggled to stand up on his stiff legs and smiled as the doctor helped him up. "No need to thank me. I enjoy having someone to talk to."

"Mm, yes."

Mr. Hammond followed Martin to the front door. "You'll have to let me know how your Valentine's Day plans turned out."

"We'll see." He cleared his throat. "Goodbye."

"Goodnight, Martin."

Martin glanced down at the floor, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the close friendship he and the old man were forming. "Take care of yourself."

Mr. Hammond slapped a friendly hand on the doctor's shoulder. "I will. Now go on. Get home to that family of yours."

"Yes." A sliver of a smile appeared at his lips as Martin turned to leave the cottage. He really had come to like the old man, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone. He understood things that Martin didn't. He was well educated, like Martin, though no medical doctor. And he was someone Martin found he could confide in, other than Ruth and Louisa. Yes, I suppose we could be friends, Martin thought as he walked the short path to the main road.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-two

On the morning of Valentine's Day, Martin was up early as usual. He just finished tying his tie when he heard his wife stir behind him in bed. "Morning," he said as he turned around to face her.

Louisa yawned and stretched her arms, then smiled at the sight of her husband. "Good morning." He was wearing her favourite tie and a pale blue pin-striped shirt. She gestured for him to move over to her side.

Martin sat down at the foot of the bed, careful to avoid crushing her legs. She picked up his hand and laced their fingers together. "What?" he said, perplexed by the dreamy look on her face.

"Do you know what day it is?"

Martin furrowed his brow. "Of course I do. It's the fourteenth of February."

Louisa smiled. "I know. Happy Valentine's Day, Martin."

"Yes." He hesitated, but leaned over to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

"Mm, that was nice," Louisa said once he pulled away.

Martin cleared his throat. "Um, are you free later today?" he asked, unsure of how to propose his plans.

"Why?"

"I just thought we could do something together - you and me."

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Martin nodded. "Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"That would sort of spoil the surprise, now wouldn't it?"

Louisa continued to smile at him. On the inside she was brimming with happiness and curiosity. He'd actually planned something, though what it was she had no idea. But just the thought of Martin whisking her away for a romantic night out made her stomach churn with butterflies. "I just had no idea you were planning something."

Martin looked down at their joined hands for a moment. "Mm, I've been thinking that a surprise would make you happy. And there's nothing more that I want than to make you happy."

"Oh, Martin."

"So are you free tonight?"

Louisa nodded, unsure if she could form the words. "Yes, I'm free."

Martin smiled slightly. "Good. I was thinking of picking you up after school. Is that alright?"

"Is five too late?"

Martin did a mental calculation in his head, making sure the timing was right. "No, that should be fine. Um, I was thinking that Ruth might look after James while we're gone."

"Yes. I'm sure she'll be delighted to spend some time with him." Her grin seemed to widen. "Oh, Martin, I'm just so excited! I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on my work today. I'll be too busy wondering where you'll be taking me."

"Mm, yes." He stood up and went back to his wardrobe. He slipped on his navy suit and began adjusting his cuff links. "I'll get James ready and have breakfast waiting for when you come down."

"Thank you." She gave him one more smile before he turned to leave the room.

While Martin began preparing his morning coffee, James was seated in his high chair, watching him intently. "Eat your breakfast, James," Martin said as he glanced over at his son, seeing the untouched food on his tray.

James looked down at his bowl of oatmeal and decided to use his fingers instead of a spoon. Martin quickly tried to stop the toddler from making a mess but it was too late. The noise of his espresso machine made James laugh, and the toddler began waving his arms excitedly, sending bits of oatmeal flying about.

"James Henry, that's enough of that," Martin scolded, taking a dish towel and attempting to clean his son's hands and face.

"Da-ee!" James squealed. He leaned over and slapped an oatmeal-smeared hand against his father's cheek.

"Oh, God," Martin muttered, trying his best to keep his anger in check. "What would your mother think if she saw you acting this way, hmm?"

"I don't know. What would I think?"

Martin turned to see Louisa standing in the living room, wearing a red, flower-patterned dress. His eyes widened at the sight of her. She always took his breath away. "Um, nothing. We were just starting breakfast."

Louisa tried to hide her smile, but failed. "I can see that."

Martin wiped his face clean with the towel. "Mm, someone's in a cheeky mood today."

"James, are you giving your father a hard time?" Louisa stepped over to her son and swiped away a blob of oatmeal that was stuck in his hair.

James looked up at his mother with a huge grin. He lifted his arms up in a plea to be picked up.

"Let's get you cleaned up first." She took the towel from Martin and began cleaning James's face.

"He didn't eat much," Martin commented as he placed their soft boiled eggs on the table.

"Hmm. Is that something we should be concerned about?"

"I'm not sure. He doesn't appear to be of ill health."

"Perhaps he's just not hungry." Louisa finished cleaning James's hands and face then picked him up, settling him against her hip. "Do you want to sit with Mummy instead?" she asked him. James made no indication of a refusal, and was content with sitting in his mother's lap.

"He's a growing child, of course he should be hungry. Perhaps later I'll look over him more closely."

"There's nothing wrong with you, is there, James?" Louisa smoothed her fingers through his soft blond hair.

Martin eyed her from across the table for a moment before digging into his egg with his toast. He'd have to remember to have Ruth keep an eye on him while they were out. He didn't want to take any chances, especially where James was concerned. "You can never be too careful," he mumbled.

"I know." Louisa dipped her toast into her egg. "Does Ruth know she's babysitting?"

"I was going to call after breakfast."

"Hmm. And you're sure she's free?"

"Yes. What else would she be doing?"

Louisa shook her head, finding it difficult to eat with James squirming in her lap. "I don't know, Martin. She does have a life of her own. I just want to make sure we have adequate childcare lined up so we don't have to cancel our evening."

"I'm sure she'll agree. She's looked after him before on short notice."

"I know. So it's settled then?"

"Yes."

"Good." Louisa watched him for a moment as the room grew silent. She returned to her breakfast when she noticed James make a grab for her spoon. "No you don't, my cheeky little man," she said, moving the utensil out of his reach.

. . .

At quarter to five, Martin pulled up beside the gate of the school. He took the key from the ignition and glanced at the digital clock on the touch-screen feature of the Lexus. He was a bit early, but he was glad for the few minutes' wait. He needed to calm his nervousness. As he shifted his gaze to the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat, he began to wonder if he should have purchased one of those sentimental holiday greeting cards. Didn't most people do that for special occasions? They were full of romantic nonsense anyway, he thought, deciding he made the right decision.

A few minutes past five, Louisa finally made it out of the school. She'd been feeling giddy all day, wondering about this surprise Martin had planned. And when she saw him standing next to the Lexus, dressed in her favourite suit and a bouquet of flowers in hand, Louisa could have sworn she felt her heart stop, if only for a second.

Her cheeks grew warm despite the slight chill in the air, and her insides melted at the sweet gesture. "Martin . . ." she breathed out once she came to a stop in front of him.

He held the bouquet of pink and red roses out for her. "Um, Happy Valentine's Day, Louisa."

Louisa took the flowers from him and could feel her eyes begin to water. "Martin, they're lovely," she said, burying her nose in one of the roses.

"You're welcome. Um, Ruth is with James now, so I thought we could leave from here."

"Okay." She looked up from her bouquet of flowers and smiled at him. "I can't wait to see what you have planned." Leaning up on her toes, she placed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Martin clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down at the pavement, slightly uncomfortable from her public display of affection, even though no one was around to see them. He cleared his throat. "Mm, we should be going." He walked around the car to open the passenger door for her.

"Thank you, Martin," Louisa said as she ducked inside the car.

"You're welcome."

The car was silent as they drove. Louisa still held the bouquet of roses in her lap, her gaze fixed outside the windscreen, still unsure of where they were heading.

When they reached Truro, Louisa turned in her seat to face Martin. "Do you think I could have a clue as to what we'll be doing?"

Martin kept his focus on the busy road ahead. "We're having dinner at a small bistro and then to see one of the local chamber orchestras."

"Really?"

Martin glanced over at her for a second before returning his gaze back to the road. "Yes. Is something wrong with that?"

Louisa shook her head vehemently. "No, no! I'm just surprised, is all."

"Good. That was my intention."

Louisa reached over and placed a hand on his left thigh. "I don't know what to say, Martin. I just never would have guessed you'd plan all this."

Martin gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying not to let the weight of her hand distract him. "Mm, well I want to make things right this time."

Louisa furrowed her brow, confused by his remark. She started to ask what he meant, but Martin had pulled into a spot next to the curb outside the restaurant they were dining at, leaving her to ponder the meaning of what he said.

Again, ever the gentleman, he opened her door and helped her out of the car. Louisa immediately linked her arm through his, which seemed to surprise him. "So everyone knows it's you I'm with," she clarified for him.

"I see."

When they were seated at their table and left to peruse the menu, Martin could sense some of the looks from the other men in their direction, no doubt trained on his wife. The waiter had taken her coat and the red dress she had on that morning, combined with the ambient low lighting of the restaurant, seemed to add some extra color to her face. He gazed about the establishment and frowned.

"What is it?" Louisa asked as she looked up from her menu.

Martin returned his gaze to Louisa. "Nothing," he replied with a shake of his head.

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him, but decided to let him off the hook. He'd done enough for her already tonight.

It took longer than expected for their dinner to arrive and Martin feared they might be late for the concert. He was doing his best not to ruin the evening for her, and the fully packed restaurant only added to his diminishing confidence. He dug back into his fish to try and suppress his worries.

As Louisa sipped her wine, she began to grow curious over her husband's sudden quiet nature. She knew he wasn't one to talk while they ate, but ever since they sat down he'd been acting distant and anxious. His movements as he cut his fish were quick and measured, as if he wanted to end their dinner as soon as possible. When he dropped his fork to reach for his water glass, Louisa placed her hand over his in an effort to calm him down. Maybe he was nervous, she thought.

"Martin, is everything alright?" she asked. "You seem quite anxious."

Martin stared at her from across the table for a moment. "I'm fine." He felt her slim fingers curl around his larger ones, and he glanced around at the other patrons, unsure of her display of affection. But eventually he relaxed the muscles in his hand and let her lace their fingers together.

"Are you nervous, is that it?"

He looked down at their joined hands, mesmerized by the sensation of her thumb brushing back and forth across the back of his hand. "I just don't want to be late for the concert."

"I see." She gave his hand a squeeze, glad that it wasn't something more pressing that worried him. "I'm sure we'll make it on time."

"Mm, yes."

And she was right. They made it to the local theatre and concert hall on time. As they settled into their seats, Martin busied himself with looking through the program. Louisa had pulled out her phone, checking for any messages from Ruth.

"What are you doing?" Martin whispered to her as he tried peering over to see the screen of her phone.

"Just checking to make sure Ruth hasn't left any messages. I hate being away from James in the evenings."

"I'm sure he's just fine. Make sure you turn that off once the concert starts."

"Yes, Martin I will." She did as he instructed and turned off her phone before slipping it back into her purse.

Soon enough the lights in the auditorium dimmed as the first sounds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons began to play. As the concert went on, Martin glanced down to see Louisa's fingers folded in her lap. He longed to reach over and take hold of her hand, but was hesitant to do so.

Louisa could feel his gaze on her as the orchestra shifted to one of Beethoven's symphonies. She put him out of his misery by reaching over and clasping his left hand with her right. She turned to look at him and they both smiled shyly at each other, as if it was the first time they ever held hands.

Martin continued to stare at her out of the corner of his eye long after she turned back to the orchestra, though he knew she could feel him looking at her, and this time he wasn't embarrassed to be caught staring. Even in the dimmed lighting she looked as beautiful as ever to him. Her hair was pulled up into her usual ponytail, not some extravagant hairstyle, which he didn't mind at all.

He longed to be alone with her, wishing they could just leave that very moment. But he felt her grip tighten around his fingers, as if she sensed his eagerness, and Martin relaxed further in his seat, content for the moment with the feel of his wife's hand entwined with his own.

As the final applause began to die down, Martin helped Louisa up by the elbow and guided her towards the aisle. Exiting the theatre, Martin turned to face her. "Would you like to walk around for a bit?"

She smiled slightly. "Yes, Martin. That would be lovely."

They crossed several streets until they entered a park. It was dark out, but several wrought-iron lamp posts were lined up to guide them along the footpath. They walked in silence for a few minutes and Louisa pulled her coat more tightly around her, the temperature dropping significantly since when they first arrived in town.

Martin kept his head down as they leisurely strolled through the park. His gaze kept shifting towards her hand and this time he reached over and took it, threading their fingers together.

Louisa smiled to herself as she thought of the memory of their first date at that amateur outdoor concert where he hesitantly took hold of her hand as they walked through the garden. And suddenly everything seemed to make sense. She gently tugged on his hand as she guided him to the far edge of the path so they were out of the way.

"Is something wrong?" Martin asked, confused as to why she stopped.

Louisa shook her head. "No, everything's perfect, Martin. Is this what you meant earlier when you said you wanted to make things right? Recreating our first date?"

Martin looked down at his shoes as he scratched at his brow. "Yes," he said when he returned his gaze to hers.

"Martin, that's so sweet of you, and dare I say _romantic_." She smiled up at him in the harsh glow of the lamplight.

His cheeks turned pink at her compliment. "Mm, but last time I was very rude to you and I apologise for that, Louisa."

Louisa took hold of his other hand and stepped closer to him. "Is that why you've been acting so nervous? You were afraid you'd be rude to me again?"

Martin nodded. "Yes. I wanted tonight to be special because I've never celebrated the holiday with someone I care about. I've tried very hard not to ruin our evening . . ."

"And you're doing just fine, Martin. I'm just touched by everything you've done for me tonight; the flowers, dinner, and the concert. It's certainly a day I'll remember for a very long time."

"Good."

"Now come here and finish the evening off right."

The corners of his mouth twitched as he remembered their kiss under the trees of that garden. "Mm, yes."

They met each other halfway, and Louisa sighed as her mouth melded perfectly with his. She felt his arms encompass her waist and Louisa reached up to wrap a hand around his neck, deepening their embrace.

When Martin pulled away, she was smiling at him. "Are you wearing that same perfume?" he asked, his lips curling into a slight grin.

"Yes." She tried to keep from laughing. "Do you remember what it is?"

"If I remember correctly I thought it was sandalwood."

"You did."

"And you said it was Kenzo Flower."

"Yes." She waited for the inevitable, to see if he'd say it again.

"It's flowery but sweet. And it's the perfect scent for you."

"Oh, Martin." Louisa could feel her eyes start to water and desperately tried to keep them at bay. She kissed him again, relishing in the soft warmth of his mouth. "I love you - so very much," she breathed out once they parted.

Martin didn't hesitate. "I love you too, Louisa."

She wrapped both arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He'd given her an evening to remember, and she couldn't wait to get him home to show him just how much.

. . .

"I see you had a nice time," Ruth said once Martin and Louisa returned home, taking note of the close proximity her nephew and his wife seemed to be, almost lost in their own world together.

"Yes, we had a lovely time, didn't we, Martin?" Louisa glanced up at her husband with a smile, which he returned.

"Yes, we did."

"Is James already asleep upstairs?" Louisa asked.

Ruth let out a tired sigh. "I'm afraid he wore out his great aunt first and then himself. He just went down a little bit ago."

"That's good. Did he give you any trouble?"

Ruth shook her head as she gathered up her laptop and handbag. "Not at all. He was on his best behaviour as usual."

Louisa smiled. "Good."

"Well, I best let you two get on with the rest of your evening."

"See you again soon, Ruth."

"Goodnight, Louisa. Night, Martin." Ruth turned to her nephew.

"Yes, goodnight," he replied with a nod of his head just as his aunt left through the door of the kitchen.

"So . . . husband . . . ?" Louisa began as she turned around to face Martin.

"What?" He raised his brows.

"Fancy a nightcap?"

"Um, yes, if you'd like. Tea?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a glass of wine."

"I see. If that's what you want." Martin moved to the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of red wine. He filled a glass for her before moving away to start preparing his tea. "I think I'll go and check on James while the water's heating," he said after filling the kettle and switching it on.

"Okay." Louisa moved to the living room and sat down on the sofa. She curled her feet underneath her and took a drink from her glass, reflecting on their evening out. She'd certainly been surprised. But all the thought he put into planning their Valentine's Day made it even more special. From the day they first met she would have never guessed how romantic he could really be. And what especially touched her was how simple he kept everything. There was no extravagant display of romance or exchanging of expensive gifts. He merely took her back in time to a memory that always haunted her, and this time, made it right. And she loved him for that.

Martin came back downstairs to find Louisa nestled up against the end of the sofa, seemingly lost in thought. She looked up at him once she noticed his presence. "How is he?" she asked.

"He's fine. He woke up but fell back to sleep." Martin walked past her to the kitchen to finish preparing his tea.

"Good."

When he sat down next to her with his cup of tea, Louisa shifted closer to him. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Martin," she said, looking up at him with a smile.

He took a sip from his cup then placed it on the table next to him. "You're welcome."

"No one's ever done anything like that for me."

"I'm glad I was the first." She reached for his hand and they entwined their fingers. "Have I made you happy, Louisa? Truly happy?"

Louisa nodded. She didn't need to think twice. "Yes, Martin, you have. This past year, since the whole couple's therapy thing, I've felt much closer to you than I ever have."

He was lost in her eyes for a moment. "Mm, me as well."

"And I think that closeness is starting to have an effect on James."

Martin furrowed his brow. "In what way?"

Louisa began tracing circles across the back of his hand with her thumb. "He just seems more happy. He's finding his own voice and pretty soon he'll be able to ask you a million questions." She smiled as she pictured James in a year or two asking Martin question after question at the breakfast table.

"Yes."

"He's like you in that way; always curious and not satisfied until he has the answer or response he's looking for."

"I see."

Louisa could see the change in his expression. "I mean it as a compliment, Martin. He's going to be a smart little boy, I know it."

"Hmm." He reached over for his cup of tea.

"Maybe he'll grow up to be a doctor like you. Wouldn't that be sweet?" She squeezed his upper arm.

"Maybe. But he can be whatever he likes. He doesn't have to follow in my footsteps like I did."

"But you love your work, despite your father."

He turned to face her fully. "Yes, I do."

"And you're the best doctor I've ever known." She set her wineglass down on a side table and leaned over to kiss him. What meant to be a short, sweet kiss turned into something much more passionate. Martin's tie was nearly undone and she had already started working on the top buttons of his shirt.

"Mm, Louisa . . ." Martin said as he pulled away to catch his breath. He could see that lustful gleam in her eye and he knew what she must be thinking.

"What do you say we end the evening on a high note, hmm?" she whispered as she slipped his tie free from around his neck.

Martin couldn't form the words to stop her. He merely nodded and that was all the encouragement she needed. She pulled him up from the sofa and led him to the stairs, dropping his tie on the way. Martin moved to pick it up but Louisa pulled on his arm and he almost tripped over the first step.

"Leave it be, Martin. It'll still be there in the morning."

He gave her an incredulous look and opened his mouth to contradict her, but she silenced him with another kiss that left him breathless. "Yes," he managed to get out as he followed her the rest of the way up the stairs, forgetting, at least for the moment, about his tie lying across the bottom step.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-three

The month of February was coming to a close, finally ending a series of strong winter storms that left the fishing village rather deserted. Those that were brave enough to venture out into the cold, against Penhale's advisement, had to be careful of the patches of ice scattered across the Platt and narrow uphill streets.

It was Friday afternoon, mostly cloudy with an unpleasant chill in the air, and Martin was making his way up Roscarrock Hill to the surgery, a box of medical supplies tucked under one arm and a plastic shopping bag hanging from the other. He noticed a large, white van parked next to the steps of the surgery, blocking most of the road. As he neared the vehicle, the name of a furniture company was visible across the side of the van. Martin curled his lip. They should have been here last week, he thought as he rounded the vehicle to climb the steps up to the surgery.

Entering through the front door, he could hear a dog barking as well as multiple pairs of footsteps from the second level. Buddy must have picked up his scent as the canine came bounding down the stairs towards him.

Martin shuffled around the dog, trying to shoo him away with his foot. "Morwenna!" he shouted, stepping into the waiting room. "Who let that dog in here?!"

Morwenna pointed towards the window. "The delivery man accidentally let him in."

"Well get rid of it!" Martin sneered as he bent down to brush his trousers free of dog hair. "Disgusting!"

Morwenna let out a sigh as she stood up from her desk. "C'mon, Buddy!" she said, trying to get the little terrier to follow her to the front door.

Martin moved past her towards his consulting room to put away the medical supplies he'd picked up from the pharmacy before heading to the kitchen to deposit the fish he'd purchased in the refrigerator. He began tidying the countertop when he heard his wife's laughter coming from upstairs. He furrowed his brow and headed for the stairs, curious as to what was going on up there.

"Louisa?" Martin called out as he came to a stop at the top of the stairs.

"Oh, Martin, you're back!" Louisa exclaimed as she stepped out of James's room to greet him. She quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Yes. What are you doing home?"

"Well someone had to be here for the delivery man."

"I see."

There was a loud thud and Martin and Louisa both turned towards their son's room. Feeling irritated, Martin brushed past Louisa to investigate. "What on earth is going on in here?"

The delivery man looked up from his work at assembling the new toddler bed for James. "Afternoon," the man cheerfully greeted the doctor. "Sorry about the noise. I accidentally tripped over the baby cot." He pointed towards the pieces of the disassembled cot, which were scattered about the floor of the small room.

"Pick all this up before you seriously injure yourself," Martin instructed, gesturing to the debris scattered about carelessly. "And mind the walls."

"Martin," Louisa admonished her husband as she stepped back into the room, "be nice."

He turned to face her. "How can I when this idiot made a mess of our son's room and nearly took out the wall with his carelessness."

The delivery man had stopped working to watch the exchange between the couple, unaffected by the insulting words from the doctor.

"I'm sorry, Dan, this is Martin, my husband," Louisa said as she introduced the delivery man. "He's had a bit of a stressful day."

Martin curled his lip, not aware that his wife was on a first name basis with the furniture delivery man.

"Nice to meet ya," Dan said, sticking out his hand, which Martin ignored.

"How much longer will you be?" Martin asked.

"Not long. I just have the safety railings to put in place and we're all set."

"Mm, just keep the noise down will you? I have patients to see and I don't need to hear you hammering away like a woodpecker."

The delivery man creased his brow. "I won't be using a hammer."

Martin continued to frown. "Oh, for God's sake," he muttered as he turned to leave the room, Louisa hurrying after him down the stairs.

"Martin, what's gotten into you today?" Louisa asked as she came up beside him in the living room.

"Nothing," he tried to assure her.

"Really?" She raised her brow at him, unconvinced by his tone.

Martin sighed. "It's just . . . This was all supposed to be done last week."

"Yes, I know it was, but that still doesn't excuse your behaviour."

"It's the middle of the afternoon, Louisa. I have patients."

Louisa crossed her arms. "But this is also our home, Martin."

"Yes, I realise that, and it's the surgery as well."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you trying to say, Martin? That you want the surgery separate from our home?"

Martin looked down to inspect his fingers. "I don't know," he mumbled.

Louisa's features softened and she reached out to touch his arm. "If it's causing you stress maybe we should consider looking for something - see what's out there?"

Martin shook his head. "No. It's just been a trying day, and with that imbecile upstairs . . ." he trailed off as he rubbed at his temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming.

Louisa took hold of his free hand, squeezing it gently. "Did something happen today?" He shook his head. "Martin, tell me. Please?"

Martin turned to look at her. She was gazing up at him with concerned eyes. "Just a setback with a patient, is all."

"Oh, Martin, I'm sorry. Bad news, then?"

"Sort of."

Louisa remained quiet for a moment, thinking of a correct response. "Martin, I know you care about your patients, but it's okay to feel upset sometimes, especially where bad news is concerned."

Martin shook his head. "I'm not really upset, just frustrated I guess."

Louisa stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "How about once surgery hours are over you relax for a while, hmm?" She glanced up at him. "I'll cook dinner while you put your feet up. You've been so busy lately, and I want to do something nice for my husband . . . because you deserve it."

Martin smoothed a hand down her back. "Thank you."

Louisa cherished the last few moments of their embrace before stepping away. "I suppose I should head back up there,"she said, gesturing to the second level, "before he manages to put another window in James's room."

Martin tilted his head to the side, not quite catching on to her comment. "Oh, I see. Yes."

"All done!" the delivery man exclaimed as he came down the stairs and around the corner into the living room, his toolbox in hand.

Martin and Louisa turned to face him. "Great, thanks, Dan!" Louisa said as she moved to the kitchen to retrieve her purse.

"No problem."

Louisa held out a few notes. "For putting everything together."

Dan shook his head. "No need, Mrs. Ellingham, I was glad to do it for nothing."

"Please, I insist."

Dan smiled. "You're very kind," he said, taking the money and stuffing it into his back pocket. He turned to face Martin. "It was nice meeting you Mr. Ellingham."

"It's doctor," Martin corrected him while clearing his throat.

"Right. Well, I hope your little one enjoys his new bed."

"I'm sure he will." Louisa gave him a bright smile.

With the nod of his head, Dan turned to leave.

Martin furrowed his brow as he watched the delivery man limp to the front door. "Did you injure yourself while working up there?"

The delivery man stopped to turn around. "No."

"You have a limp. You're favouring your right leg."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Do you have pain in your left leg?"

The delivery man nodded. "Yeah, for a while now, but only when I walk."

"Mm, you should make an appointment with your GP as soon as possible."

The man's face turned serious. "Why?"

"Hairline fractures, muscle strains, arthritis, cancer," Martin listed off one by one.

" _Cancer?_ " Dan's eyes widened in fear.

"Martin," Louisa tried to interrupt him, but he ignored her.

"Mm, bone cancer is a possibility, especially if the pain is getting worse."

"Is that treatable?" the delivery man asked as he adjusted his hold on his toolbox.

"If it's detected in time, yes there is treatment."

"Do you really think it could be cancer?"

Martin shook his head. "It's only a possibility. I can't be certain, but you should see your GP as soon as possible to rule anything out, or better yet an orthopaedic consultation."

The delivery man nodded. "Right. Well, I must get on . . ." He lifted his company baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. "Thanks for the advice, Doctor. Mrs. Ellingham," he nodded before continuing to the front door.

"What?" Martin said once the delivery man left, seeing Louisa shake her head at him.

"Why did you have to scare him like that?"

Martin furrowed his brow. "I didn't intend to. He had a noticeable medical condition, Louisa. I couldn't just ignore it."

"But telling him he could have cancer?"

"I said it was a possibility."

"Oh, Martin!" Louisa huffed out as she headed for the stairs.

Martin narrowed his eyes at his wife's retreating form. "What? Louisa?" he called after her, but she didn't answer. He shook his head, still unable to understand her sudden shift in moods.

That evening, as promised, Louisa let Martin put his feet up while she made dinner. Though he would never put his feet up, he did relax back into the cushions of the sofa, his legs crossed at the ankle. James was playing on the floor by his feet when Martin felt a tickling sensation on his leg. He lowered his medical journal to see James pushing one of his toy cars up the leg of his trousers. Furrowing his brow, Martin shifted his leg away from the toy car, which only encouraged James to keep playing.

The toddler dropped his toy car and wrapped both arms around his father's right leg. He peered up at Martin with a toothy grin.

"You're not a dog, James," Martin said as he bent over to pry his son from his leg. He pulled him up and set him down on the sofa next to him. James inched over towards Martin and nestled up to his side.

Martin glanced down at his son, not able to concentrate on his article. "Would you like me to read to you?"

"Book!" James said as he reached out and touched the glossy pages of his father's journal.

"This is a medical journal, James. How about we read something your mother would approve of, hmm?" Martin stood up from the sofa and reached for a stack of children's books next to his son's playpen. Settling back down next to James, Martin rifled through the books, letting James decide which one appealed to him most. Eventually they settled on a book with talking farm animals. "You should know, James," Martin began to explain, "that farm animals can't speak English . . ."

Louisa had her back facing the living room, but she smiled to herself at her husband's comment. He was always finding opportunities to teach their son something new, but he especially enjoyed pointing out the faults of James's storybooks, which she found to be his way of strengthening the close bond the two of them shared. But she secretly enjoyed just listening to his voice; the deep resonance that sounded so gentle to her ears. And he was getting better at expressing himself when reading to James, raising and lowering his tone depending on the story's context, making their son giggle endlessly at times.

She turned away from the sauce she was making to furtively glance at her two boys. James was sitting in his father's lap, his blond head tucked under Martin's chin, while his eyes lit up at the pictures in the book they were reading. She liked to think Martin enjoyed the activity more than James, how sometimes the little boy inside her husband managed to emerge from the repressed childhood he had. Sensing she'd been staring too long, Louisa opened the door of the oven to check the chicken. Not quite done, she decided. She lingered at the countertop, taking a drink from her wineglass as she listened to her husband's soothing voice to pass the time.

Later that same evening, as Martin came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas and unfastening his watch, he could hear Louisa across the hall coaxing James into his new bed. "See how much room you have, James?" he heard her say. He moved across the hall to see for himself.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he noticed his father slip into his room.

Martin stood behind Louisa, who was on her knees at the edge of the bed. She was certainly right. The new bed was longer than the cot, giving James more leg room and mobility. While searching for the new piece of furniture, both he and Louisa were adamant about the addition of safety rails, in case James should roll over in his sleep. Even though the bed wasn't far off the ground, neither wanted to take a chance that James could injure himself in the middle of the night. So they settled on something modern; a wooden bedframe that was stained a dark blue. Louisa even went out of the way to find some bedsheets with matching blue race cars printed on them. Though Martin couldn't care less what colour or design the sheets were, just as long as James was content with his new bed, which he seemed to be.

The toddler seemed to take note of the extra space he had, and began rolling from one side of the mattress to the other. Louisa tried to calm his growing excitement. "James, sweetheart, you need to settle down," she said as she reached out to steady him. "You need to go to sleep."

James finally complied with his mother's plea and laid back against his pillow. Louisa smiled as she pulled the sheets and blue bedspread up to his chin. Laying his baby blanket over him, she reached for his treasured purple dinosaur and he immediately grabbed for it, hugging it close to him. "Goodnight, sweetheart," she said softly as she combed her fingers through his hair. He was growing too fast, she thought to herself as his bright blue eyes shined back at her. Pretty soon they'd have to teach him how to use the toilet on his own, but for now Louisa just wished time would stop, if only for a day. He was almost two years old and she wondered how time could go by so fast. "I'll let Daddy say goodnight." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I love you very much, James Henry," she whispered to him.

Martin stepped to the side as Louisa stood up and swiped a finger at the corner of her eye. "Is something wrong?" he stopped her, wondering why she was crying.

Louisa shook her head. "No. It's just going to take some time getting used to the new bed." She glanced toward the cupboard on the opposite side of the room where the disassembled parts of the baby cot were now stored. "I've become accustomed to having his cot in here, that's all."

Martin reached out and placed the back of his hand against her cheek. "I know."

Louisa gazed up at him with a shy smile. "I'm glad you understand." She finished wiping her watery eyes. "Just one story tonight, alright. I don't want him up all night."

"Yes."

She reached up and took hold of the hand that was on her cheek and squeezed it. "I'll be waiting."

Martin nodded and she moved around him to leave the room. Shifting the rocking chair closer to James's bed, Martin sat down and pulled a children's book into his lap. "One story, James. Your mother's rule I'm afraid." James rolled over onto his side to watch his father, keeping his purple dinosaur tucked under his chin.

Not long after reading James his bedtime story, the toddler drifted off to sleep and Martin said his goodnight before closing the door and heading back across the hall.

When he entered their room, Louisa was propped up against the pillows, her nose buried in one of her novels. She lowered her book as he closed their door. "Well?"

"He went down fine," Martin answered as he pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed.

"I'm surprised. I thought he'd put up more of a resistance at sleeping in a new bed."

"He was tired." He finished adjusting his pillow before laying down on his back.

Louisa placed her bookmark and closed her novel, setting it off to the side next to her alarm clock. She clicked off her bedside lamp and turned over on her side so she was facing Martin. "I'm glad you're teaching him things, Martin," she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Mm, isn't that what fathers are for?" He turned his head to look at her.

Though the room was dark, except for the glow of the moon, Louisa smiled anyway. "Yes, and you're a very good father to James."

Martin let out a breath through his nose. "Am I really?"

Louisa reached up to place a hand on his chest. "Yes, you are. He connects with you, more than I think he does with me."

"I'm sure that's not true, Louisa," he tried to assure her. "You share the deepest connection with him. You're his mother. You housed and protected him for nine months. And when he's old enough I'm sure he'll understand that."

"Thank you for saying that, Martin," she said softly, gazing up into his eyes.

"You're welcome."

They grew quiet for a while, both trying to fall asleep but couldn't. "Do you want to talk about why you were upset today?" Louisa asked as she broke the silence between them.

Martin turned to look at her again. "Not really. And I wasn't upset."

"Hmm. Well, you just seemed stressed to me and I thought that maybe if you talked about what was troubling you you'd feel better."

"Nothing's troubling me, Louisa, I promise. It was just one of those days."

"I see." She yawned. "I hate feeling tired but not able to get to sleep."

"Turn over on your other side."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "What?"

"Just turn over."

She could feel him start to push her so she rolled over onto her right side. "Okay, okay, I'm rolling over. Now what?" Then she felt his fingers at the back of her neck, kneading the muscles. "Oh, Martin." She closed her eyes as his fingers moved down her spine, taking the day's stress along with them.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked when he felt her trapezius muscle tense under his fingers.

"No, don't stop. It feels nice."

He continued down the trapezius and over her latissimus dorsi, starting to feel her relax beneath his touch. When he reached the end of the external oblique muscle above her hip, Martin shifted closer to kiss the nape of her neck. He could hear her even breathing and suspected she'd fallen asleep. "Goodnight, Louisa." He wrapped his left arm securely over her hip and settled himself against her back. With his nose buried behind her ear, Martin drifted off to sleep as well, her warmth and scent enveloping him.

A few hours later, Louisa woke to the sound of James's piercing cries. "Mum-ee!" she could hear him wail through their closed bedroom door. She sat up quickly, forcing Martin to roll onto his back. She blindly searched for her dressing gown as her son's cries intensified. Finally tying the sash, Louisa dashed out of the room and across the hall.

"James, it's alright, Mummy's here," she cooed as James threw his arms around her neck. "Oh, sweetheart, it's alright. Did you have a bad dream?" She settled James in her lap as she sat down in the rocking chair. He buried his face in her neck as he clung to her. Louisa felt helpless. He couldn't speak what frightened him, and all Louisa could do was hold him tight as she whispered comforting words in his ear.

Not long after Louisa had settled James into her lap, Martin peered around the door of the room. "Everything alright?" he asked, his face a mask of concern.

Louisa looked up at him. "I don't know. I've tried comforting him, but he won't stop crying."

"Here, let me." Martin held his arms out.

"Shh, James. Why don't you sit with Daddy." Louisa stood up so they could trade places and handed over James.

Martin sat down as James snuggled against him. He was clutching his purple dinosaur, almost afraid to let go of it. "There, there, James," Martin tried soothing. "You're alright. Let's go back to sleep now."

James's screams eventually subsided into quiet whimpers. Louisa had left the room to retrieve some tissues to wipe away her son's tears. "There we go," she said once he seemed to calm down. "Do you think it's the new bed?" she asked as she looked down at James, worrying her bottom lip in the process.

Martin furrowed his brow. "I have no idea. He can't very well tell us, can he?"

Louisa sighed. "Martin, I know that, but do you think the transition from his cot to the new bed was too soon?"

"Louisa, I don't know. I'm not a child psychologist." He looked down at James and could see the toddler's eyelids growing heavy. "He's about to go back to sleep." Martin gingerly stood up from the chair and laid James back down on his bed, but the toddler latched onto his pajama shirt, not wanting him to leave.

"Da-ee!" James screeched as he looked up at his father with frightened eyes.

Martin sighed then glanced over at Louisa. "Why don't you go back to bed? I'll sit with him."

"Are you sure, Martin?"

"Yes. I'm sure I won't be long."

"Okay. I'll see you in the morning, James." She reached over to brush her fingers through his hair. "Daddy'll stay with you." She turned to look at her husband, giving him a quick nod.

He nodded back then scooped James up once more to sit down in the rocking chair. He waited for the door to close before looking down at his son. "Shh, James." He swiped a thumb over the toddler's ear, tracing its curve. "Go back to sleep," he said gently.

"Seep?" James repeated, his eyebrows drawn together in question, confused by the word.

" _Sleep_ ," Martin corrected, emphasizing the "L" sound. "You need your sleep so your body can relax and restore itself."

The two grew quiet for some time, and Martin could feel his son's breathing start to even out, suspecting that he might have finally fallen back to sleep. He stood up carefully and bent over to lay James down on the mattress.

James opened his eyes as his head hit the pillow. "Da-ee, seep," he said, looking up at his father with tired eyes.

Martin looked down at the miniature mattress, nearly three times as small as the one in their room. "Really? I won't fit, James. How about I sit here?" he suggested, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

James didn't protest and laid his head back down on his pillow, watching his father.

Martin pulled the covers back up to his son's chin and tucked his baby blanket around him. "Are you comfortable?" James continued to stare at him silently and Martin reached out to brush his hand over his head of light hair. "Go back to sleep," he whispered.

Soon enough, James's eyes closed and he relaxed against his pillow. Martin continued to comb his fingers through his son's hair, the movement seeming to calm him. "Goodnight, James," Martin said quietly, his eyes never leaving his sleeping son. His little boy looked so perfect lying there, the moonlight casting strange shadows about the room. He could remember the first time he laid James down in his cot when he was a newborn. Now he had his own bed and Martin wondered where the time had gone. Had it really been over a year and a half? he wondered, still not quite believing it.

"I've always wanted you, James," Martin confessed as he continued to watch his son. "You never were, and you never will be a burden to me. You and your mother are very important to me, and I'm very grateful the two of you are in my life." He paused for a moment. "Sleep well, James." He placed the backs of his fingers against James's cheek, feeling the warmth spread through his skin. The corners of his mouth twitched in a slight smile as he adjusted the bedcovers. He took one more lingering look at his little boy before standing up from his perch on the end of the bed and silently slipping out the door.

 **A/N: So this chapter was far longer than I planned but I just couldn't stop writing. I hope the tender scenes with Martin and James is somewhat believable, as long as no one's around to see him let his emotions slip out I think it's passable. I'd like to thank those of you who have been consistently giving me feedback chapter after chapter. It's a tremendous source of encouragement for me as I work through this story. And for those of you who worry, there's still more to come as I keep thinking of new ideas to add. I never thought I'd get this far or write something this long, but I've enjoyed every minute of it so far as it gives me a mental "break" from my studies. Anyway, let me know what you think because I greatly appreciate it.**


	34. Chapter 34

**I'm terribly sorry for the super long wait, everyone. This past month has been crazy, and I'm finally done with fall semester and am greatly looking forward to holiday break (I can finally breathe again!). I hope you enjoy the update, I have the next chapter planned out and hope to get it posted as soon as possible. Thanks again for your patience!**

Chapter Thirty-four

Martin kept his gaze fixated on the framed documents on the wall above the examination bench pertaining to the physician's credentials. They were at the hospital in Truro for James's latest pediatric check-up. Louisa was by their son's side, holding his little hand as the pediatrician gave him his latest round of immunizations.

James was quite the trooper. He didn't put up much resistance at being jabbed with a needle; just a loud whimper at first contact. He had his mother close at hand to help him through the slight discomfort.

Turning away from the framed certificates, Martin observed the pediatrician, watching critically as the doctor poked and prodded his son with gloved fingers.

"We're all done, James," the physician announced as he switched off his othalmoscope. He wrote down a few notes in a file before addressing Martin and Louisa. "You have a very healthy son. Everything looks good; height and weight are respectable; immunizations are up to date."

"I could have told you that before we started," Martin said as he stepped over to James, taking hold of his son's hand.

"Martin," Louisa admonished as she lightly elbowed him in the side.

The pediatrician refrained from laughing. He and most of the hospital staff were well aware of the former surgeon's condescending nature. "It's quite alright," he said to Louisa, brushing off the GP's comment. "I'm sure you keep a very close eye on your son, Dr. Ellingham."

Martin glanced down at James with a soft expression. "Yes. I have a duty of care."

Louisa could feel herself smiling, knowing the true meaning behind her husband's words. "And Martin's very good at his job." She looked up at him and their eyes met, a mutual agreement between the two.

"Yes, and well qualified I hear," the pediatrician said, breaking the couple's silent moment.

Martin turned to face the physician and responded with a quiet grunt.

"Do you know how much longer he'll be teething?" Louisa asked as she brushed her fingers through James's hair. "He's been in some discomfort the past few days."

The doctor's eyes lit up at the question. "Considering that James has most of his primary teeth, molars tend to take a bit longer to come in. By the age of two he should have most of his teeth by then, but in some children it could take longer."

Louisa bit down on her lip as she thought for a moment. "Hmm. Well, thank you, Doctor, for looking over James. I know Martin does it constantly."

The pediatrician smiled as he stuffed his pen into the front pocket of his white coat. "Of course, Mrs. Ellingham. It was very nice meeting you and James." He bent down to address the toddler. "You were very brave today, James. That's a good quality to have. And you passed your physical with flying colours, young man."

Martin curled his lip at the doctor's lilting tone when talking to his son. He could feel his wife's disapproving gaze on him, silently pleading for him not to say anything outright.

James giggled at the smiling pediatrician and squealed in delight when he slapped his hand against the doctor's outstretched palm.

"Alright, James, let's not take up any more of the doctor's time." Louisa turned to face her husband. "Martin, could you take James? I just want a moment in private to ask the doctor something."

Martin nodded but furrowed his brow, curious as to what she needed to ask the pediatrician. "Yes, we'll just be outside." He picked James up and settled him in the crook of his right arm then left the room.

Once Louisa rejoined her two men, they headed for the entrance of the hospital. "What was that about?" Martin asked as they left the pediatric wing.

Louisa shook her head. "It's nothing, Martin. I just had a question."

He turned to look at her. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"Because, Martin . . ."

" _Because_ isn't an answer," he stated matter of factly.

Louisa whipped her head around to face him. "Mar-tin!" She shook her head again to calm herself. "I just don't feel comfortable discussing it with you, that's all."

Martin ducked his head at her impatient tone. "I see." They remained quiet until they exited the hospital, where they were greeted by a gush of cold air. "Is it something to do with James?" he finally asked.

Louisa stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat as they walked to the car park. "No, it's nothing to do with James."

"Then what?" He faced her once more. "Louisa, if something's medically wrong with you I wish you'd tell me."

She was quiet for a few breaths, contemplating whether or not to tell him. "I'm fine, Martin." She turned to give him a weak smile. "I just wanted an opinion on something."

Martin was growing confused. "An opinion on something non-medical?"

"Can we discuss it later? I really don't want to get into it now."

He looked straight ahead, trying not to feel concerned by his wife's sudden secrecy. "Yes." He pulled out his keys and pressed the unlock button as they reached the silver Lexus.

The drive back to Portwenn started out in silence. They passed an ice cream shop and Louisa's eyes lit up. "Maybe we should get James some ice cream?" she suggested, pointing at the shop behind them. "He was very well behaved. And as the doctor said, he passed his physical examination with flying colours."

Martin tightened his grip on the steering wheel, having no intention of stopping for ice cream. It was February. Who eats ice cream in the middle of winter? he thought to himself. "Ice cream is full of sugar and fat, Louisa; all of which James doesn't need."

Louisa crossed her arms. "Maybe I'd like some ice cream?"

He turned to look at her, his expression incredulous. "Really? It's cold outside."

She smiled. "I was just teasing, Martin. But I understand why you don't want James to have any."

"His diet is perfectly fine as it is. He doesn't need any additional sugar."

"Well my parents always let me have a treat whenever I went to the doctor."

"I'm not surprised, considering the time your mother fed James alcohol."

"Mar-tin!" She playfully smacked his arm. "That was one time. And she didn't know that it was alcohol."

"It's just as well it didn't have any long-term effects."

She turned in her seat to look at him. "Can we stop talking about my mother? Yours wasn't any better," she muttered under her breath.

Martin raised an eyebrow. I suppose she had a point.

The car grew silent for a while, except for the occasional babbles from James in the backseat. Once they reached Portwenn, Martin let out an irritated sigh. "For God's sake," he mumbled as he noticed Penhale's police car parked in the middle of the road outside the surgery.

"I wonder what Joe wants?" Louisa inquired as Martin pulled the Lexus into his spot next to the cottage.

"Probably some idiotic nonsense he has no one else to bother with," Martin muttered as he pulled the key from the ignition.

"Martin," Louisa admonished under her breath, giving him a look before unbuckling her seatbelt.

Stepping out of the Lexus, Martin stuffed his keys into his pocket just as Penhale came racing towards him.

"Doc!" Penhale exclaimed once he finally reached Martin. "We need your help - ASAP!"

Martin curled his lip at the man's unnecessary closeness. "What is it? And who's _we_?"

"There's a medical emergency -"

Martin rolled his eyes. "Obviously. Would you just get to the point and tell me what's happened?"

"Right," Joe stammered as he nervously fingered his utility belt. "A young girl. I think she's in a lot of pain. She won't stop screaming, Doc." He turned around to glance at his police car, an anxious expression on his face. "To be honest, it's rather terrifying."

"I doubt it."

"What's going on?" Louisa asked as she came around the side of the car to stand next to Martin, holding a sleeping James in her arms.

"A medical crisis, Louisa," Penhale started to explain.

"Medical crisis?" Martin interjected. "Where is this patient?"

"She and her mother are in the back of the police car."

Martin brushed his way past the constable, Louisa in tow. Opening the back door of the police car, a familiar face startled Martin.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham, thank goodness!" the woman exclaimed once she set eyes on him. "We were beginning to worry you wouldn't be back."

Martin recoiled as he recognized the woman who flirted with him from the nursery school. He risked a sideways glance towards his wife. At least she had no idea of the face that belonged to the phone number she confronted him with. "Um, the surgery's not open today."

"I know. PC Penhale told me that, but please can you help? My daughter's in quite a bit of pain."

Hearing a sharp cry, Martin turned his gaze down at the girl cradled in her mother's arms. "Let me see."

The woman brushed her daughter's hair away from her forehead as Martin looked her over. The young girl cried out in pain and Martin stepped back, furrowing his brow as he thought of a possible diagnosis. And without warning, a splash of vomit splattered over the front of his suit and trousers. He looked down at the mess with a curled lip, but then averted his gaze once he noticed the blood staining his jacket. The hysterical shouts from the girl's mother faded as Martin turned away, steadying himself as he gripped the edge of the police car.

"Martin?!" Louisa gasped as she witnessed the spray of blood that covered her husband. She reached out and touched his upper arm. "Are you all right?"

Martin tried clearing his throat, but silently heaved instead. "I'm fine," he eventually replied. He handed Louisa his keys. "Would you let the girl and her mother into the surgery please?"

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him, still not convinced he was alright.

"Louisa, go. I'm fine. I just need a minute." She nodded and gestured for the panicked woman and her daughter to follow.

"What about me?" Penhale asked.

Martin cleared his throat, finally feeling the nausea subside. "What about you?"

"Don't I get to come in?"

Martin frowned. "What on earth for?"

Penhale hesitated. "Well, we're the dynamic duo. I just thought you might need some assistance . . ."

"I can take over from here, Penhale, thank you."

"You're welcome," Joe muttered as he watched the doc climb the steps up to the surgery, "I guess." He kicked at a loose rock, sending it skidding across the pavement. He sighed and took another lingering glance at the surgery before ducking inside his police car and heading back to the station.

"Come through," Martin announced as he strolled through the waiting room to his office. The girl and her mother followed.

Louisa remained in the doorway, watching as her husband snapped on a pair of gloves, seeming to forget about the splatters of blood covering his front. "Do you need any help?" she asked.

Martin looked up at her. "No . . . thank you."

She nodded. "I'll put James down for his nap, then."

"Yes." When she left the doorway, Martin turned back to his patient. The girl was clutching her stomach, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her groans of pain.

"What do you think it is, Doctor?" the girl's mother asked.

Her frantic expression put Martin on edge. He wasn't the best at dealing with panicked parents. He tried to keep from snapping at her. "I haven't done a full examination yet." He pulled the girl's arms away from her stomach and began gently palpating her abdomen.

The girl cried out and leaned forward to cough, leaving specks of blood behind on the disposable paper of the examination bench.

"Please, do something?" the mother shouted, in obvious distress over her daughter's condition.

Martin ignored her and kept his gaze fixed on the girl, away from the blood. "What type of pain are you experiencing in your stomach?" he asked the girl.

She was silent at first. "It burns."

"Low in your stomach or up here in your chest?" Martin gestured from his abdomen up to his chest. The girl tapped the upper half of her stomach. Martin let a breath of air escape his nose as he turned to face the mother. "Has she been taking any anti-inflammatory medication recently?"

The mother furrowed her brow. "Anti-inflammatory?"

Martin sighed. "Aspirin, ibuprofen . . ."

"No, not that I know of, why?"

"I suspect your daughter may have a gastric ulcer, though she's very young to have one."

"But what would aspirin have to do with it?"

Martin turned away to move behind his desk. "Excessive amounts of anti-inflammatories make the stomach more susceptible to acid and pepsin, though it would take years for an ulcer to develop. The more likely cause is Heliobacter pylori, a bacteria that lives in the stomach."

"Are you certain? But how could she have picked it up?"

Martin sat down in his chair and pulled a new patient file open. "It's difficult to tell. Most people who have it are asymptomatic; they don't experience any symptoms." He picked up his brio and scribbled down a few notes. "She's probably had it for a while, and over time the bacteria weakens the mucosa, erm, the lining of the stomach, making it more prone to damage by acid."

"But is she going to be alright? The blood, I mean."

Martin glanced over at the girl. She was curled up on the examination bench. "Coughing up blood is never a good sign. I'll need a stool sample to test for the presence of Heliobacter, but if I'm right, and I'm fairly certain I am, she'll need a course of antibiotics and H-2 blockers to eliminate the bacteria and reduce the amount of stomach acid being produced."

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham, thank you so much!" the woman exclaimed as she rushed to his side and kissed his cheek.

Martin was startled as he stiffened at the contact. He stumbled over his words, "Um, you're welcome."

"I'm sorry if I was too forward with you the first time we met," she said, moving back around his desk to stand across from him.

Martin shook his head, still feeling shocked by her kiss. "Right. Um, like I said before, I'll need a stool sample." He pulled opened a drawer and handed the woman a plastic, cylindrical container. "And if the coughing or vomiting worsens, and the blood looks darker and thicker in texture, take her to hospital immediately. But I'm fairly sure that antibiotics will do the trick. I'll have my receptionist contact you when the results of the stool sample come in and then I'll write your daughter a prescription. For now, have her avoid acidic and spicy foods to prevent further irritation."

The woman smiled as she helped her daughter down from the examination bench. "Thank you, again, for easing my fears."

Still feeling flustered, Martin shook his head. "Mm," he grunted, "you're welcome, Mrs -"

"Mason," she filled in. "But it's just Miss."

"Right."

"And I'm sorry we interrupted your Saturday."

"It's fine. It was a medical emergency. That's far more important."

"You know, your wife is very lucky to have you."

Martin looked away from her. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Bye, Dr. Ellingham." She smiled at him one more time before leading her daughter out of the consulting room.

Once Ms. Mason and her daughter were gone, Martin finally leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. There was just something about that woman that made him feel uneasy. He looked down at his soiled suit. Another jacket ruined, he thought as a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. Quickly pulling over the bin that was next to his desk, Martin vomited the contents of his stomach into the metal wastepaper basket. After wiping his mouth with a wet paper towel, he left his consulting room to find Louisa.

She was in the living room, typing away on her laptop. "Louisa?" he said, making his presence known as he stepped out from the hallway under the stairs.

Louisa turned to look at him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fairly certain the girl will be fine."

She cracked a slight smile. "Well done, but I meant are _you_ alright?"

He moved to sit next to her on the sofa. "I'm fine, Louisa, I told you."

"You didn't look fine earlier. I thought you were going to pass out."

Martin reached over to cover her hand with his own. "I'm fine now, I promise."

She stared back at him for a moment, unsure if he was telling her the truth. "I just worry about you, Martin. And your blood phobia . . ."

He looked away from her, feeling embarrassed by his weakness. "I'm coping with it."

Louisa placed her other hand over Martin's. "I know you are. But what if something serious should happen and you can't cope?"

"Hypothetically, I'd be just fine." He removed his hand from hers and stood up. "I need to change out of these clothes."

Louisa let out a sigh as she watched him head for the stairs. She really did hope that nothing serious would come up. She wasn't sure if both of them would be able to handle it.

. . .

Later that same evening, Martin was all ready for bed, sitting up against the headboard reading his medical journal. A few minutes passed by when Louisa finally returned from tending to James. "Is he asleep again?" he asked as he watched her climb into bed next to him.

"Yes," she replied as she settled against her pillows. "Just misplaced his stuffed animal is all."

The room grew silent for a while. "Is the light bothering you?" Martin asked when Louisa rolled over onto her side away from him.

"No, it's fine, Martin."

He turned back to his article but couldn't concentrate on the words. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine."

"You seem cross, and I just want to know if I've done something to upset you."

She was quiet for a moment, but eventually rolled over to face him. "I'm not cross with you, Martin. I wanted to discuss your blood phobia earlier but you shrugged me off."

"I see." He closed his journal and set it aside on his nightstand.

"Why don't you like to talk about it?"

"I just don't."

"Why not?" Reaching over, Louisa took hold of his hand.

Martin breathed out through his nose, trying to muster the courage to tell her. "Because I'm ashamed of it."

Louisa's features softened. "Oh, Martin."

"It makes me feel weak. I mean, what kind of doctor is afraid of blood? It's humiliating, Louisa, especially when the whole of England knows it."

Louisa gripped his hand tightly. "You are not weak, Martin. You're the strongest and most resilient man I know. You can overcome your haemophobia, Martin."

His expression turned sad as he gazed back at her. "What if I can't?"

"We'll get through it together like we always do." She offered him a slight smile as she caressed his cheek with her thumb.

The corners of his lips inched upwards. "You know that woman who was here earlier with her ill daughter told me you were lucky to have me."

Louisa's smile widened. "Of course I am. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Martin could feel his chest swell with love for her. "Thank you."

Louisa shifted closer to him and laid her head against his shoulder, her arm moving to wrap around his stomach. "You never have to thank me, Martin. I'm never going to change how I feel about you."

He closed his eyes for a moment then reached over with his left hand to switch off his bedside lamp. "Are you going to tell me what you discussed with James's pediatrician earlier today?"

"Yes," she mumbled against the material of his pajama shirt. "But right now I just want you close by my side."

Martin furrowed his brow, wondering why she was being so evasive. "I see."

"Go to sleep, Martin," she whispered to him.

He tightened his hold on her as he tried to fall asleep. He glanced down at her, wondering what was so important that she had to keep secret from him. He ran his fingers down her arm and she smiled in her sleep. He eventually closed his eyes, his wife's warmth and steady breathing starting to lull him to sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-five

The following Monday, after dropping James off at the nursery school, Martin decided to check up on Mr. Hammond before his first patient was due at the surgery. It was a short walk to the older man's cottage from the nursery, and overhead, the morning sun was warm and inviting as winter was finally drawing to an end.

After knocking several times, the door to the cottage opened, revealing a tired and frustrated old man. "Morning," Martin greeted him.

"What'd ya want?" Mr. Hammond grumbled out, still dressed in his robe and slippers.

Martin cleared his throat. "I, um - I was in the area and thought I'd stop by to see how you're doing."

The old man coughed into his fist. "I'm quite alright thank you."

Martin scrutinised the man from head to toe. His thinning white hair was tousled in all directions and the wrinkles of his face seemed more pronounced than ever, probably from a lack of sleep, Martin thought. "If it's alright, Mr. Hammond, I'd like to do a quick examination."

"I told you I'm fine."

He started to close the door, but Martin stuck his foot out, preventing it from closing. "Please? It'll only take a few minutes. You're my patient. I have a duty of care . . ."

Mr. Hammond shook his head. "Just leave me alone."

Martin wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Mr. Hammond, might I remind you that neglecting your health will only make your condition worse. I don't want to be the one to have to send you to a care home."

That seemed to get his attention as the old man's brow creased. "All right, fine. You win." He stepped aside to let the doctor in then led the way to his study.

Martin sighed as he navigated his way through the messy cottage. The sink and countertops were piled with used dishes, the cupboards and cabinets open, revealing what was left of the man's food supply. The study wasn't any better. Stacks of newspapers were situated in one corner, while the wastepaper basket next to the desk was filled with empty glass bottles. Something needed to be done.

Martin set his medical bag on the floor and helped Mr. Hammond sit down in the chair at his desk. He pulled out his stethoscope and placed it on the man's chest, listening to his breath sounds and then his heart. He noted the shakiness as Mr. Hammond picked up his teacup. "Can you take hold of my hand and squeeze it?"

Mr. Hammond let out an irritated breath. "Of course I can!" Concentrating, he reached over and grabbed Martin's hand.

"Good. Now give it a squeeze - as hard as you can."

The old man gritted his teeth as he willed his muscles to comply with his wishes. He managed a weak squeeze of the doctor's hand then let go. "I cant!" he shouted, feeling angry with himself.

Martin softened his expression and lowered his voice as if he were talking to a young child, "It's alright, Mr. Hammond, you did well."

"But?"

"I'm concerned about your lack of sleep."

"Well you try going to sleep with legs that ache at all hours of the day."

"Is it a dull ache or a sharp pain?"

"Both. My leg'll cramp up but the ache that comes after doesn't go away."

"I see."

"So can you give me something for the pain?"

Martin sighed. He knew there wasn't much he could do for the man. "I can prescribe you a benzodiazepine to help you sleep and depress the nerves so you don't feel as much pain, but . . ."

The old man's eyes lit up. "Well, come on then."

"They can be highly addictive," Martin finished.

"You won't have to worry about that with me, Doc."

"Mm. Well, as much as that reassures me I just don't like to prescribe unnecessary medication."

"Doc, please? I'm in constant agony all day. Sometimes I can't even stand up my knees are so stiff."

Martin breathed out through his nose, contemplating his decision. "Alright. But I'll put you on a low dosage, and you must follow the instructions to the letter. I don't carry my prescription pad with me, but I'll write one when I get back to the surgery then stop by the pharmacy later. I'll have my receptionist make you an appointment with some physiotherapists in Truro to help you with muscle and joint movements."

A slight smile appeared at the corners of the older man's mouth. "Thank you, Martin."

"Mm, you're welcome."

With a shaky hand, Mr. Hammond brought his cup of tea up to lips. "You never told me how your Valentine's Day surprise went."

Martin clicked his medical bag shut, feeling his cheeks redden at the memory. "It, um, it went very well."

"Very well indeed, I see." The old man chuckled at the sight of the doctor's flushed complexion.

"Yes, well . . ." Martin trailed off as he stood up to his full height.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Martin." There was a cough and a clearing of the throat before Mr. Hammond continued, "We're both grown men."

Martin tugged at his ear. "Right. I, um, I have a patient due soon . . ." He glanced down at his watch.

"Of course."

"I'll drop off that prescription once I get it filled with Mrs. Tishell."

"Thank you, especially for brightening up my rather dreary morning."

Martin glanced down at his shoes, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Mm, you're welcome." He cleared his throat as he turned to leave the study. "Goodbye."

"See you later, so - Martin."

Martin paused for a second in the doorway before continuing on to the front door. He heard the near slip of the man's words and tried not to think too much of it. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

. . .

Later that same evening, Louisa was just finishing a stack of paperwork when she heard footsteps in the hall outside her office. She assumed it was the janitor, the rest of the teachers having already left for the day, but as she glanced up from her desk, she spotted Elliot briskly moving down the hall. She furrowed her brow, wondering why he'd come back.

"I thought you left for the day, Elliot?" Louisa asked as she stepped outside her office, catching him in the hallway before he disappeared from sight.

He stopped and turned around to face her. "I did, but I went for my evening run. I came back for my clothes and bag."

Louisa felt her face burn with embarrassment, now finally noticing the tight jogging pants and t-shirt he was wearing. "I see."

He ran his hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat and still patchy in some places due to his operation. "Just five miles," he said with a wave of his hand.

Louisa smiled. "I envy you. I've been meaning to get more exercise lately, but there just doesn't seem to be any time."

Elliot moved closer to her, but kept a professional distance between them. "You should come for a run with me sometime after school."

"I don't know, Elliot. I'm not really a runner. I used to run the occasional mile every now and then. But of course that was before I was married and had James."

Elliot chuckled. "You don't have to be a marathon runner. I wasn't either, but your body adjusts the more you do it."

"That sounds like something Martin would say, though he'd probably lecture me on the dangers of foot and knee injuries first."

Elliot laughed. "Why not tomorrow? We could start off easy and work our way up?"

Louisa smiled. "I'd have to think about it."

"Of course. I'll have my running clothes with me tomorrow so just let me know."

"I will." She pointed to her office. "I should probably be heading home."

"Goodnight," he said as she turned back to her office.

"Goodnight, Mr. Keane." As Louisa filed the paperwork she'd been working on, her eye caught the latest picture she had of James on her desk. He was sitting in his father's lap, smiling up at Martin, both of them unaware of the camera. It was her favourite picture, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have another child. That is, if Martin agreed.

When Louisa entered the kitchen, feeling refreshed from her short walk from the school, she was greeted with the sharp smell of Italian spices. She hung up her coat and placed her school bag on the floor underneath. "Hello," she greeted Martin as she spotted him at the cooker, a wooden spoon held up to his nose.

He turned to look at her. "Hello."

"That smells wonderful," she said as she moved to his side. "What are you making?"

He set the wooden spoon down on a cutting board and covered the pot with its matching lid. "Pasta fagioli."

Louisa smiled as she raised an eyebrow. "No fish tonight? My, aren't we daring."

"There wasn't anything good down at the fish sellers," he said as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. "And we seem to have an excess supply of pasta."

She reached out to touch his arm. "Well it smells delicious, Martin. I can't wait to try it."

He averted his eyes, feeling somewhat embarrassed by her compliment. "Yes. It's a classic Italian soup . . ."

"Where's James?" Louisa asked as she scanned the living room, seeing no sign of their son.

"Asleep upstairs. Nursery school and that girl must have tired him out."

"It's Janice, Martin," she corrected him as she took a seat at the table.

He turned back to the cooker, removing the lid on the pot and giving its contents a stir. "Would you mind setting the table?"

"No, of course not." She stood up and headed for the dresser to retrieve bowls and glasses.

As they sat down to eat, Martin dished out the soup he made. "Um, how was your day?" he asked her as he poured himself a glass of water.

Louisa looked up at him after trying a spoonful of the Italian soup. "Oh, you know, nothing too exciting." Her eyes lit up at the delightful taste of the soup he'd made. "Martin, this is really good."

He could feel his cheeks reddening at her praise. "Mm, thank you."

Silence ensued as Louisa began absently stirring her soup, contemplating whether to bring the subject up or not. "I had an interesting proposition today."

Martin tilted his head to the side, his interest piqued. "What sort of proposition?"

"Elliot, um, Mr. Keane . . ." She glanced up at him with a nervous look. "He asked me if I wanted to go for a run with him tomorrow after school."

Martin felt his soup go down the wrong way. He dropped his spoon against the ceramic bowl and let out a series of coughs. After wiping his mouth with his napkin, he stared back at her with a blank look, trying to mask his surprise. "I see."

"I said I'd think about it."

He shook his head. "But, Louisa, you don't run."

She drew her brows together. "I could if I wanted to." She dipped her spoon back into the broth. "I've been meaning to get more exercise anyway, so this would be a good opportunity. The days are starting to get longer and the temperature's warming up. And this way I won't have to run by myself."

"You are aware of the complications that come with such a sport, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, Martin. I would have thought you'd be more encouraging, being a medical professional and all."

"I thought I _was_ being encouraging."

"You were lecturing."

Martin shook his head. "Now you've lost me. I don't understand . . ."

Louisa let out a long breath. "I'd like to get back in shape, Martin. I'm not getting any younger." She paused for a moment. "And I think it'll be fun."

" _Fun?_ " He furrowed his brow then muttered, "Sore heels and knee damage doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"Mar-tin!"

"What?"

"You're not helping."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

Did she really have to spell it out for him? "Give your wife some encouragement."

"I wasn't trying to stop you. I just . . . It's a habit for me to revert to my medical nature." He reached across the table to take her hand. "I don't mean to lecture . . ."

Louisa's expression softened as she curled her fingers around her husband's larger ones. "I know you don't. It shows that you care and I appreciate that, Martin, I really do."

Martin looked down at his half empty bowl of soup. "So are you . . . ?"

"Am I what?"

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Are you going to go running with that teacher tomorrow?"

Louisa smiled, glad for his approval. "I think I will. I'll have to dig out my athletic clothes from Sports Day last year, but I'm looking forward to it. Maybe if I really enjoy it I'll get you to come with me as my running partner."

Martin let out a snort. "I don't run."

"Not even when you were a boy at school?"

Martin stood up from the table, not liking where the conversation was heading. "I was more a subject of ridicule than an indulger of sports."

"Oh, Martin." She reached out for him as he moved around the table, but kept a certain distance from her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course. But I just feel for you and the awful things you went through as a child."

He set his bowl in the sink and stared out the kitchen window, his back facing her. "I know you do. But it's in the past. I've done well for myself since then."

Louisa stood from her chair and moved to wrap her arms around his middle from behind. "Of course you have. You have a respectable career and a loving family."

Martin loosened his grip on the edge of the countertop, his wife's closeness making him feel safe and secure. "I do." He felt her squeeze him more tightly.

"So it's alright if I go tomorrow?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes."

"I might be late for dinner, so you don't have to plan anything special for tomorrow."

"Mm."

She patted his upper arm. "Thank you for being so understanding. I'm going to go look in on James. I'll be right back."

Martin felt her move away from him and turned to look at the table. He blew a breath from his nose as he was left to clean up the kitchen.

. . .

The following morning, Martin was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his espresso. His medical journal was open in front of him, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on its current events. He was still somewhat confused by Louisa's sudden interest in jogging. Was she that conscientious about her figure? he wondered. Even though she had a slightly thicker waist nowadays, to him, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. He flipped a page in his journal, feeling a bit annoyed.

"Good morning," Louisa announced as she walked through the living room, James toddling along by her side.

He looked up from the table. "Morning."

James rushed up into the kitchen towards his father, placing his hands on Martin's thigh. "Da-ee!" he squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, wanting to be picked up.

"Morning, James." Martin hoisted up his son and settled him on his lap. James reached out and splayed his small fingers over the glossy pages of Martin's journal.

"He couldn't wait to see you this morning," Louisa said as she pulled out a box of cereal from the pantry then moved to retrieve a bowl from the dresser.

"Mm." Martin looked down at James, who seemed fascinated by the picture in his journal. "Try not to overexert yourself today," he said as he watched her settle across from him at the table. "It's been a while since you've done any strenuous physical activity . . ."

Louisa looked up at him with narrowed eyes as she poured milk onto her cereal. "Thank you, but I can take care of myself, Martin."

"I know. I was just -"

"Being a doctor . . ."

He glanced away from her, feeling put down by the way she mocked his concern. He cleared his throat. "Right."

Sensing the growing awkwardness between them, Louisa turned her attention to James. "Are you going to have fun with Janice today?" she asked him.

James smiled as he reached out towards his mother's cereal bowl. "Eat!" he shouted, looking up at Louisa with his shining blue eyes.

"Daddy will get your breakfast, won't you, Martin?"

Martin let a hiss of air escape his nose. "Yes." He stood up and placed James in his high chair then moved to the refrigerator.

"I don't know if running will be a daily thing," Louisa began, "but I'm hoping it might help with some of the stress I've been dealing with."

Martin returned to the table with an apple. "I see."

"Sometimes I wish I could just go back to teaching."

"Why?" He glanced up from his work at slicing the banana he picked up from the bowl on the table.

Louisa shrugged as she swallowed a mouthful of cereal. "I wouldn't say I'm bored with being headmistress, I just miss the interaction and closeness I had with my students, is all."

Martin set a bowl of banana slices down in front of James then began skinning the apple. "Why can't you go back to teaching?"

"I could if I wanted to, but the salary as headmistress is a bit higher and I feel like I've worked so hard for something I've begun to grow tired of. I just don't know if I'm ready to throw that all away."

"Are you going to stand down from your position, then?" Along with the banana, Martin placed the cut up slices of apple into James's breakfast bowl.

Louisa leaned over on her elbows, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. "I don't know. That's why I've been thinking exercise might help me make a decision; you know, help me clear my mind a bit."

"I see."

"I won't make any big decisions without consulting you first though, I promise."

Martin glanced over at James for a moment before looking down at his watch. "I should start getting ready for my first patient."

"Of course." Standing up from her chair, Louisa moved around the table to embrace him. "Have a good day," she said, peering up at him.

Martin wrapped an arm around her as she pressed against him. "Yes, you as well."

"I promise not to be out very late."

"Yes."

Louisa smiled as he seemed to accept her new interest in jogging. "I love you, Martin."

She would never know how much he cherished those words from her. "I know." He smiled down at her awkwardly.

Leaning up on her toes, Louisa placed a lingering kiss to his lips. "See you tonight," she whispered, suggestively running a hand down the front of his suit.

Martin swallowed hard, feeling the knot of his tie growing tighter around his neck. "Yes." She continued to smile up at him and he began to feel the blood rush up to his cheeks. He twisted out of her embrace and headed for the hallway under the stairs, briefly pausing to brush his hand over the top of his son's head.

Louisa turned and watched as he left the kitchen. That spark was always there between them, and it only made her insides tingle with excitement, knowing she had such an effect on her husband. "Are you about finished, James?" she asked her little boy as she diverted her attention away from her suggestive thoughts.

James looked up at his mother, a slice of apple sticking out of his mouth, its juice dribbling down his chin.

. . .

"I usually start with a few minutes of stretching," Elliot said as he bent over to touch his toes.

Louisa let out a breath as she bent over, imitating Elliot's movements. They were out in front of the school, getting ready for their late afternoon run. "It's been such a long time since I've done any of this. I'm afraid I'm not as flexible as I used to be."

Elliot straightened up after silently counting to twelve. "No worries; just as long as you stretch out your legs a bit you'll be just fine. We'll start out slow then increase the pace, depending on how you feel."

Louisa stood up and stretched her right arm across her chest. "Are you sure you weren't a personal trainer before you came here?"

Elliot chuckled as he shook his head. "No. Maybe in a past life or something." He shrugged. "I'm trying to take more of an initiative when it comes to my health, considering what happened earlier this winter." He tapped his forehead, in reference to the operation he had.

"And you're doing okay . . . medically, that is?"

He nodded vigorously as he started to jog in place. "Yep. Plus I still have that bet with Penhale to win."

"Oh, right. The half marathon?"

"Mmhmm. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I beat his time."

Louisa smiled playfully. "You're awfully sure of yourself."

He winked at her. "I have my mind set on that two hundred quid." He stopped jogging and looked down at his athletic watch. "I think we'll start off with an easy mile then shoot for two and a half, how does that sound?"

Louisa tried to suppress her nervousness. Two and a half miles? She inwardly groaned. "Sounds great." She forced a smile.

He jerked his head. "Then let's get to it."

Louisa let out another deep breath as she followed after Elliot, wondering if she was going to regret her newfound interest in relieving stress.

Elliot guided them through some of the narrow side streets of the village before circling back to the main road by the school. Nearing the end of their first mile, they jogged down the hill that curved past the police station.

Penhale was outside cleaning his police car as he noticed the pair of runners pass by the station. He recognized Elliot of course, and he curled his lip as the man seemed as determined as ever to win their bet. But he wasn't prepared for Louisa to be the teacher's running partner. He began to wonder how the doc would react if he knew. Glancing down at his watch then looking up to scan the area, Penhale dropped the sponge he'd been using to wipe down his police car into the bucket by his feet. He pulled off his black clip-on tie and undid the first few buttons of his white police shirt. He briefly stretched his arms and legs then took off after Elliot and Louisa.

"How are you doing?" Elliot asked as they passed the police station and started up another hill.

"Beginning to wish I didn't live in a place with so many hills," she huffed out as she tried keeping up with him.

Elliot furrowed his brow as he looked down at his watch. Their pace was slower than he liked, but he didn't want to push her too hard, considering she was just a novice. "Do you need to stop?"

Louisa shook her head as she inhaled a large lungful of salty sea air. "No, just keep going."

"Don't push yourself too hard. Just let me know if you need to stop."

Louisa nodded, trying to keep her focus away from her aching legs and the burning sensation in her chest.

"Stop! Police!" came Penhale's distinctive shout from behind them.

Elliot and Louisa came to a stop and turned around, seeing Portwenn's police constable sprinting towards them. They exchanged confused looks. "Joe?" Louisa inquired as he finally caught up to them. "What are you doing?"

Penhale gritted his teeth as he leaned over to catch his breath. Standing back up, he let out a groan. "I've always wanted to do that," he grinned in that foolish way of his.

"Do what, mate?" Elliot asked as he settled his hands on his hips.

"Chase after a suspect on foot."

"But we're not suspects, Joe," Louisa informed him as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Penhale leaned over to catch his breath again. "I know that, Louiser." He stood up and rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid."

Elliot shook his head. "Then why'd you run after us?"

"Just testing out the old legs, see how they match up against a teacher's." Joe gave Elliot a glare then turned his attention to Louisa, but winced, feeling a sharp pain in his chest again. "Does the doc know the two of you have been . . . ?"

"What? Running? Yes, Martin knows. He agreed to let me go." Louisa began to grow concerned when Penhale started groaning again. "Joe, are you alright?"

"Yeah, you don't look so good, mate."

"You're right." Penhale paused dramatically as he put a hand to the left side of his chest. "Because I think I'm havin' a heart attack!"

"What?! Oh, my God, Joe!" Louisa gasped as she reached out to steady him.

"Here let's get him off his feet," Elliot suggested as they led Penhale to the long grass at the side of the road.

Penhale sank to the ground in a heap. "Ow, it hurts!" He continued to clutch at his chest. "Louisa," he turned towards her, "in case I don't make it, would you tell the Doc that I will always cherish our special friendship? And Janice . . . someone's gonna have to tell her . . ."

Louisa bit her lip. She could just imagine Martin's reaction if he were here. "You're going to be just fine, Joe. You'll get to tell him yourself, you'll see."

Penhale lolled his head from side to side. "Good. Because I'm not ready for the end of the dynamic duo."

"Is he always this dramatic?" Elliot whispered next to Louisa.

She nodded. "But somehow he gets the job done. Do you have your phone with you? I left mine in my office."

"Yeah." Elliot pulled his phone from the pocket of his jogging pants and handed it to her.

"Just hold on, Joe," Louisa tried to assure the policeman. "I'm calling Martin."

After ending her brief conversation with her husband, Louisa looked back down at Penhale. He was still grimacing so she reached out and took hold of his free hand, squeezing it tight. "Just breathe, Joe."

"Ow!" He shook his head. "It hurts to breathe."

Louisa tried not to panic. The only medical training she had was the few times she'd assisted Martin on emergencies. "Then try and relax. Martin will be here any minute, I promise." She turned her head to Elliot. "Elliot, can you look out for Martin?"

"Of course. Hang in there, Joe!" he called out as he turned to walk down the street a bit, keeping watch for the doctor.

It wasn't much longer when the familiar silver Lexus came speeding down the hill towards them. "Martin!" Louisa shouted at him as he ducked out of the car, pulling his medical bag and an oxygen tank along with him.

"Louisa," Martin acknowledged her, throwing a disapproving look in Elliot's direction. He crouched down next to Penhale, taking in the man's appearance. "I'm going to give you some oxygen, so just try and relax." Penhale nodded as Martin fitted the mask over his nose and mouth. He picked up the policeman's right wrist and began counting out his pulse.

Once Penhale seemed to have calmed down, Martin pulled the oxygen mask away and placed the diaphragm of his stethoscope on his chest. He listened intently, but found nothing to be abnormal. "You said you were having chest pains?"

"Yeah, on my left side," Penhale said as he rubbed a hand over his chest.

Martin lightly pressed down just to the left of Penhale's sternum. The constable groaned and twisted away.

"Ah! Doc, it hurts!"

"Shush!" Martin thought for a moment and pressed down again, running his fingers over the area. "Have you been doing any strenuous activity lately? Your ribs are tender and there's a bit of swelling near your sternum."

"Yeah. A bit of weight lifting and sprints - to keep in shape."

"And you stupidly pushed yourself too hard."

"But just to be clear, Doc. I'm not havin' a heart attack?"

Martin shook his head. "No, but I'll do an ECG at the surgery to rule out any heart problems. I suspect costochondritis."

Penhale grimaced. "Oh, God it's serious!"

Martin frowned as he rolled his eyes. "No, it isn't. The cartilage that connects the ribs to the sternum is most likely inflamed. The pain associated with it is similar to that of a heart attack."

"So I'm not gonna die?"

"No, of course not. But you will have to rest for a few weeks. No strenuous activity of any kind." Martin tucked his stethoscope back into his medical bag. "And you can get some anti-inflammatories from Mrs. Tishell to help with the pain."

Penhale sat up. "Doc, I don't know how to thank you . . ."

Martin shook his head. "There's no need," he said as he and Elliot helped the policeman back up to his feet.

Penhale held a hand to his chest as the pain began to simmer to a dull ache. He turned an accusing glance towards Louisa. "I'm surprised, Louisa, that you would collude with this . . ." He paused, having trouble coming up with an adjective to describe Elliot. ". . . _man_ and betray our friendship."

Louisa furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure what you mean, Joe?"

Penhale frowned. "You're helping Elliot prepare for the race so he can win our bet."

"Idiot," Martin mumbled as he turned to head back to the Lexus.

"Joe, I'm not helping him," Louisa tried to explain. "Elliot's just doing me a favour as my running partner. I'm trying to get rid of some of my stress."

"But -"

"How about you and I stop at the pub later, Joe," Elliot intervened. "I'll buy you a drink for your troubles."

Penhale grinned. "A cold beer does sound really good . . ."

"See? Everything's alright." Elliot slapped a friendly hand over the constable's shoulder.

"Penhale!" Martin shouted from the Lexus. "I need to take an ECG at the surgery!"

Penhale snapped his fingers. "Gotta run! I mean, walk. The Doc said no strenuous activity."

Elliot and Louisa shook their heads as their constable slowly made his way to the silver Lexus. They laughed, watching as he took his time getting into the car, hearing a few unkind words from Martin in the process.

"You did well," Elliot said to Louisa once the car sped past them.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I could barely keep up with you."

"Your endurance will improve with time. Maybe you should sign up for the half marathon. I know it's in Exeter, but with the two of us training we'll really give Penhale a run for his money."

Louisa shoved his arm in a playful manner. "Elliot! Then we'd really give Joe a heart attack."

Elliot smiled. "But you'll think about it at least?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just started. I'm not sure I have what it takes to run thirteen miles."

"Don't worry, we'll make a runner out of you in no time."

"If only I could believe it." She turned to look at the sea. It was calm and peaceful, a few villagers and children out enjoying the sun. "I suppose we should start heading back."

"I'll race you."

"Only if you give me a head start?"

Elliot grinned. "Deal." He looked down at his watch as Louisa jogged off ahead of him. He was truly lucky to have her for a friend. Though he wished there could be more between them, he was content knowing she was happy with her life. If only they'd met sooner . . . His watch beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. With a smile and a shake of his head, he took off after her.

. . .

Later that evening, Louisa was soaking her aching limbs in a hot bath while Martin put James to bed for the night. She ran the bar of soap up the length of her lower leg when there was a knock on the bathroom door. "What is it, Martin?" she called out.

The door remained closed, respecting her privacy. "Um, James is calling for you."

"I'm in the bath, Martin."

"Yes, I know, but he's very adamant. He won't go to sleep without you there."

Louisa's heart melted at her little boy's insistence. She quickly rinsed the soap from her body and stood up, reaching for a towel. She decided to cherish the moments when James still relied on her, knowing that in the distant future he would no longer need her. "I'll just be a minute!"

Martin was startled as the bathroom door was yanked open. He took a step back, his eyes widening at the sight of her. He couldn't stop staring. The way her dressing gown clung to her made his heart beat faster. He swallowed hard, knowing she could tell how much of an effect she had on him.

"Is something wrong, Martin?" she asked as she stepped around him.

"No, I mean, you look very . . ." He couldn't get the last word out.

Louisa smiled, knowing what he was about to say. "Thank you. I shouldn't be too long." She gestured towards the hall.

Martin nodded and turned to watch as she padded towards their son's room. He smiled slightly as he heard James laugh and squeal, "Mum-ee!" from across the landing.

When she finally returned back to their room, Martin was waiting in bed, sitting up against the headboard with his journal in hand. "Is he asleep?"

"Yes, finally. I don't know what Janice did with him today, but he sure had a lot of energy."

"He's a child. They're supposed to have a lot of energy."

Louisa glanced at him through lowered lids as she pulled back the sheets on her side of the bed and climbed in. "You haven't asked me how my run was today."

Martin continued reading his article, only paying half-attention to her. "How was your run?"

Louisa pulled the journal from his hands and tossed it towards the foot of the bed. "It was good, thank you for asking." She narrowed her eyes at him. "But it was tough."

"Louisa, I was reading that."

"I know, but now we're talking."

Martin sighed. "I'd like to go to bed, if you don't mind."

"So would I." She bit her lip. "But I wanted to ask you about something first."

He turned to look at her. "What?"

"I'm considering signing up for the half marathon in Exeter later this summer."

"I see."

"Elliot asked me and -"

"For God's sake," he interrupted as he reached over for his discarded journal.

"Martin!"

"Louisa, you've only just started jogging. How can he expect you to keep up with him for thirteen miles? It's rather idiotic I'd say." He flipped his journal back open.

Louisa stared back at him, her mouth slightly agape and her jaw tensed, doing her best to hold back her bubbling anger. "Martin Ellingham, I will make you sleep on the sofa downstairs if you don't watch what you say!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him. "And it's not idiotic," she muttered to herself.

Martin let out a sigh, realising he might have been too harsh. "I was just saying what I thought was the truth. I'm sorry I spoiled it for you."

Louisa refused to face him, trying to hold out as long as she could. Sometimes he could infuriate her to no end. "Goodnight, Martin." She laid down on her side, away from him.

The room remained silent for a few minutes as Martin contemplated a better apology. For the third time he set his journal aside and switched off his bedside lamp. Settling on his back, he laced his fingers together over his stomach. Then turning his head to look at her, Martin was reminded of the early days of their marriage; when the novelty of it all seemed to be too much for him, while Louisa gracefully embraced it. He meant to reach out and touch her shoulder, but decided against it. He didn't want to upset her further.

"I don't mean to say unkind things," he said as he stared up at the ceiling, assuming that she was still awake and could hear him. "I can't help myself sometimes, and I'm a terrible husband to let it go so far. I'm sorry, Louisa, I really am."

Louisa had squeezed her eyes shut at his second attempt at an apology. She hated it when they argued. She never gave him time to explain himself, always assuming she had the upper hand in their rows. But to hear him say that he was a terrible husband . . .

"Don't say that, Martin," she said as she finally rolled over to face him.

His eyebrow arched up. "What?"

"You're not a terrible husband. You're just . . ." She bit her lip as she tried to think of an appropriate word.

"Insensitive and awkward," he supplied for her.

Louisa shook her head. "No . . . well sometimes. But what I meant to say is that it makes you who you are." She paused for a moment as she chuckled. "If you were the perfect husband I'd probably go mad."

Martin furrowed his brow. "I don't understand . . ."

Louisa rolled her eyes at his inability to catch on to her line of thinking. "What I'm saying is that I find your eccentricities endearing, Martin."

"I see." Reaching over, she touched his cheek and he took hold of her wrist, gently curling his fingers against her palm. "And you're the perfect wife for me."

"Martin . . ." She shook her head. "I don't know about that."

"You are - in every way."

"Don't make me cry." She could already feel her eyes watering.

"I don't intend to."

Louisa smiled. "But you will." The tears she had been holding back slipped down her cheeks as he leaned over and kissed her. Gliding her fingers through the short gray hairs at his temple, Louisa deepened their embrace. Without even realising it, Martin had rolled them over and was hovering above her, keeping his weight on his forearms.

"Will you finally tell me what you've been keeping secret from me?" he asked as he gazed down at her.

Louisa glanced away from him for a second, training her eyes on the door that separated them from their son. It was now or never, she thought. "I wanted an opinion on my fertility," she replied as she turned back to his questioning gaze.

His brow furrowed in that endearing way of his. "Your fertility? With James's pediatrician?"

Louisa rolled her eyes. "Not actually with James's pediatrician. I asked about a referral."

He tilted his head, not wanting to believe what she was going to tell him. "But why?"

Taking in a deep breath, Louisa brushed her fingers down the curve of his smooth jaw. "Because I've been thinking of having another child."

He could feel the blood drain from his face as his suspicions were confirmed. "I see."

Trying to feign disappointment at his meager reply, Louisa smiled weakly. "I've thought a lot about it, Martin. I've always wanted a large family and I'm not as young as I should be . . ."

"But - but we already have James . . ."

Louisa sat up, causing Martin to sit back on his heels so that they were face to face. "Yes, I know, but . . ." She could see the slightly panicked look on his face and tried to reassure him, "It doesn't have to be right away, Martin. We could wait until James is a bit older . . ." She glanced down at her lap, trying to hide her discouraged expression. "But if you really don't want another child I understand."

Martin shook his head again. "I just don't know what to say, Louisa. I wasn't aware that you wanted more children."

She looked back up at him as she continued to caress his cheek and jaw. "I don't mean to scare you with the idea, but I thought that since James was never planned we could at least discuss the possibility of another - when the time came."

"I see."

"Please think about it?"

Martin nodded, still trying to come to terms with it all. "Alright."

Louisa smiled as she leaned over to bury her face in his neck, hugging him tightly. "Thank you."

Martin remained quiet as he held her against him, staring at the nautical painting that hung above their bed on the wall. Another baby. How could he handle another child if he felt he barely functioned as a decent father to James? He didn't want to disappoint Louisa, but logically he knew that it wouldn't be sensible.

 **A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to update. I've had a bit of trouble with my motivation to write lately, but hopefully now that the plot has veered into a more intriguing direction everything will come to me a lot easier (fingers crossed as Penhale would say). Anyway, I hope this lengthy chapter was enjoyable for you all.**


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-six

 _The baby was crying again and Martin couldn't seem to calm it down. He was in the middle of getting James dressed and the wailing of the infant continued to intensify. He looked over at the cot in the corner of the room. No matter what he did, the baby would not settle. Stepping away from James, Martin moved to the cot and reached down to pick up the newborn, but the baby kicked its legs furiously as if it didn't want to be touched._

" _Martin!" Louisa's angry voice called out from across the hall in their room. "Please make the crying stop!"_

 _He shifted the baby up against his shoulder and tried bouncing in place, hoping the gentle movement would stop the crying._

 _James didn't like the attention his father was paying to the newest addition of the family. He let out a cry of his own, shouting for his father. "Daddy!" the three-year-old screeched as he jumped off his bed and latched on to Martin's legs._

 _Martin stared down at a half-dressed James then over at the infant cradled against his shoulder. Both children continued to wail and scream, and Martin had no idea what to do, since Louisa couldn't get out of bed to help him. His head was beginning to pound as the crying reverberated throughout his inner ear with a force he could no longer bear._

" _Martin!" Louisa shouted once more._

" _Daddy!" James cried as he tugged at the legs of his trousers._

 _Martin could feel his heart beating inside his chest with an intensity he'd never felt before. He gulped for air to try and steady himself, but his lungs refused to comply. The high frequency of the children's cries tore through his ear drum and up to his temples, where the throbbing in his head never ceased._

" _Martin!"_

 _Turning, he found Louisa standing in the doorway of the children's room. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Louisa," he said, a certain edge of irritation to his voice._

" _I told you to quiet the children!"_

 _He opened his mouth for a rebuttal but Louisa had disappeared, only to be replaced with the image of his mother._

" _You never could get anything right," she sneered at him, while tilting her chin up in a rather superior manner. "Look at your son. Just like his father; always needy."_

 _Martin looked down at James, who was still clinging desperately to his leg, tears wetting his flushed cheeks as he gazed up at him. His mother stepped closer to him, and Martin leaned down to place a protective hand over James's head. The baby in his arms continued to squirm unhappily._

" _I'm amazed that wife of yours has stayed as long as she has," his mother smirked. "What she sees in you I'll never understand."_

 _Martin's frightened expression turned angry at her hurtful comments. "Get out!" His voice was almost a growl as he hardened his stance in front of his mother._

" _Now you're going to stand up to me?" She laughed in that mocking way of hers he always remembered as a child. "What sort of parent have you become, Martin? They'll never learn anything from a man as weak as you. Give them to me; I'll teach them what it means to be a part of this world." She moved closer and reached down for James._

" _No!" Martin shouted, shifting James behind him with his leg to keep him from his mother. "Stay away from him!"_

 _But his mother refused to listen. She took hold of James, who twisted away from her grasp and reached desperately for his father. "Daddy!"_

" _James!" Martin shifted the unhappy infant in his arm as he stepped forward to reclaim his son, but just as quickly as he reached for James, they were both gone._

" _Martin, what have you done?!"_

 _Louisa suddenly appeared in front of him again, tears sliding down her cheeks._

" _You let her take our son. How could you?!" She abruptly turned away from him and left the room._

" _Louisa!" he called after her, but she was gone as well._

 _The room began to grow smaller, and Martin could feel his legs beginning to grow weak. His head felt dizzy as the baby continued to cry. No amount of air he took in could keep him upright. Feeling his knees give way, he was suddenly falling towards the floor, the cries of the baby now louder than ever . . ._

With a jerk, Martin opened his eyes, his gaze locked on Louisa, who was leaning over him with a worried expression.

"Martin? Are you alright?" she asked him softly.

He blinked several times, unsure if the nightmare he had was real or not.

"You were twisting and kicking me in your sleep," Louisa explained. "Was it a bad dream?"

Martin reached up to rub the side of his face, feeling it slick with a sheen layer of perspiration. "Sorry," he mumbled as he sat up in bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. Then, as if he thought it was all true, Martin pulled himself from the bedsheets and hurried from the room, ignoring Louisa's plea of asking what was wrong. He stepped into James's room to see for himself.

His son was still fast asleep in his bed, just as he'd left him the previous night, curled under the covers along with his baby blanket and purple dinosaur. Martin let out the breath he'd been holding, relief flooding through him. It was a dream after all, he thought. His mother had not appeared and taken James away from him. His gaze fell to the opposite side of the room, where the baby cot had been in his dream. But the space was filled with a chest of drawers instead. No matter how far away she was, his mother always seemed to come back and haunt him one way or the other.

Leaning down, Martin lightly brushed his fingers down his son's cheek, listening to his soft breathing. He was unsure of how long he'd been standing there watching over James, when he heard Louisa's soft, soothing voice behind him.

"Is something wrong, Martin?" she asked, moving to stand beside him.

Martin shook his head. "No."

Louisa furrowed her brow, knowing he wasn't being entirely honest with her. They could discuss it later, she thought as she leaned over and smoothed the light hair away from their son's forehead, causing the toddler to shift awake. He blinked up at his mother. "Good morning, my little sleepyhead," she cooed to him, her lips curling upward in a warm smile.

"Um, I can get him dressed," Martin offered as he pulled back the blankets covering James.

"Are you sure, Martin?"

"Yes. It won't take long."

Louisa furrowed her brow again, perplexed by his odd behaviour. "Alright. I'll be in the bathroom if you need me." He inclined his head in acknowledgement and she turned to leave the room.

After slipping on a pale blue, flower-patterned dress, Louisa rifled through the dresser for a matching cardigan, trying not to let her husband's reticence bother her. But as the years passed since they'd been together, she knew that his withdrawn manner was something to pay close attention to. She usually had to coax it out of him, one way or another.

Finally finding her cream-coloured cardigan at the bottom of the drawer, she slipped the garment on and began fastening the buttons. Her brow crinkled, sensing something wasn't quite right. She couldn't smell the light, masculine scent of Martin's cologne, which he usually applied once he finished dressing. She wondered if he'd gone downstairs to start breakfast.

Stepping out into the hallway, Louisa stopped as she caught a glimpse of her husband in James's room. She quietly moved to the landing of the staircase, keeping to the edge of the doorway so he wouldn't notice her. He was sitting on the large floor rug of the room, in a way she never pictured him doing, cross-legged, still dressed in his pajamas, as James handed him building blocks for the tower they were constructing in the centre of the room.

She listened as he helped James count out the blocks they were adding to their wooden tower. James would smile and giggle, almost bringing tears to her eyes as Martin reached out and pulled their son up into the air above his head. He was such a natural she wondered why the idea of a second child frightened him to the point of remaining distant from her. An uncomfortable sensation deep in her gut trembled, and Louisa had to put a hand up to her mouth, feeling almost sick to her stomach. She turned away from her son's bedroom and down the stairs, hoping that breakfast would settle her, at least for the time being.

When Martin finally made it downstairs, James toddling along by his side, and dressed in one of his impeccable gray suits and a striped blue tie, Louisa looked up from her bowl of cereal, giving him her warmest smile. "My, don't my two men look handsome this morning," she said as James scrambled around the table to her.

Martin averted his gaze from his wife, his head tilted down, a sign of his embarrassment. "Morning," he mumbled in response as he made his way to the counter to begin preparing his espresso.

"Can I make you anything for breakfast, Martin?" Louisa asked as she twisted around in her chair to look at him.

"I'm not particularly hungry."

"Oh. I see. How about you, James?" She looked down at her son, who wriggled around in her lap restlessly. "What can I get for my growing boy, hmm?"

James tilted his head back to look up at his mother. He reached up with both hands to bat playfully at her cheeks before pointing at her bowl of soggy cereal.

Louisa chuckled. "How about some oatmeal, then?" Standing up and shifting a heavy James to her hip, Louisa turned towards Martin and reached around him to open an overhead cupboard. "Do you have a busy day today?" He was silent for a few moments and she wondered if he heard her at all. "Martin?" She nudged his upper arm with her elbow and he flinched, as if coming out of a trance of some sort.

"Sorry. What is it?"

Her furrowed brow deepened as she repeated her earlier question," I asked if you have a busy day today?"

Martin stumbled over his words, "I-I-um . . . Yes."

"Martin, is something wrong? And please don't tell me there isn't, because I know that's not true. You woke up from a dream that startled you, and you've been distant with me all morning." She took a step closer to him and placed a comforting hand on his upper arm. "I just want to help you."

Again, he was silent.

Giving him one more chance to express himself, Louisa waited a moment longer, but when he failed to open his mouth, she turned away from him abruptly, not letting him see the hurt expression that crossed her face.

"I can't talk about it," he eventually said as he pushed the series of buttons to start his espresso machine.

"You _can't_ or you _won't_ talk about it? There's a difference."

"Yes, I'm aware of the meaning of the two words."

Louisa sighed heavily. "This isn't about semantics, Martin."

"Then what?"

Louisa's voice began to rise at her irritation. "Do I have to spell it out for you?!" She moved to place James in his high chair as he had begun to whimper at her raised voice.

"I-I'm sorry, Louisa," he said, feeling flustered by her sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Clenching her jaw, Louisa looked down at the kitchen floor, trying to calm her building anger. "I don't want us to drift away from each other again. But that's exactly where we're heading if you don't gather the courage and talk to me." She raised her eyes to meet his still flustered look and softened her tone, "I will not judge you or ridicule you for what you have to say, you know that. I want to help you through whatever it is that's troubling you . . . because you're my husband and I love you."

Martin's expression softened at her declaration. If only he had her courage and the ease to say such things in response, but sometimes he just felt his tongue became twisted in knots that he couldn't get the words out.

"Is it because of what we discussed last night?" she asked, hesitantly reaching out to take hold of his hand.

Martin shook his head. "I-I don't know."

"Don't be afraid to tell me."

He looked down at his shoes. "I don't want to disappoint you."

Louisa swallowed over the lump that formed in her throat. He practically admitted it right there. And it did disappoint her, for the briefest moment, before turning into something she wasn't prepared for; how much she longed to give their son a sibling to grow up with. And with all her might, she pushed back the tears that had begun to gather around her eyes. "I need to finish getting ready," she said quickly, glancing away from him to look at James. "Can you finish preparing his breakfast?"

"Yes," Martin breathed out as she turned and left the kitchen, heading for the stairs. He continued to stare at the empty space she'd occupied just moments ago, guilt and fear rising within the pit of his stomach, knowing he'd hurt her deeply and wondering how he always managed to muck things up between them.

"Da-ee!"

Martin snapped his head in his son's direction at the high-pitched squeal. Turning to the stove, he took the small pan of warmed oatmeal and transferred it to a plastic children's bowl, then set it on the tray in front of James. "At least there's still someone who's not upset with me," Martin said to himself as he watched James dip his spoon into his breakfast with the greatest enthusiasm.

. . .

After dismissing his latest patient of the afternoon, Martin leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on some unknown spot on the far wall. His mind had been muddled with thoughts of Louisa all morning and how'd left her hurt and upset. She had barely said a word as she left for the school, just a quick goodbye to James before Janice arrived, not paying him any attention as she quietly gathered her coat and school bag together.

How he wished he could turn back time and say the things he should have said to her. Instead, he was given the cold shoulder—and he didn't like it one bit. His gaze drifted down to his phone, which was lying face up at the edge of his desk. He was tempted to call her, or even send her a text message to apologise for his despicable behaviour that morning in the kitchen, but again, he was unsure of what he could say to make things right.

Their discussion, or rather Louisa's proposition, the previous night was still fresh in his mind. His whole life he never pictured himself having children. His career was far more important to him at the time. There would never be time to have a family. But that changed the moment he met Louisa, though he never predicted how much of an effect she and their son would have on him. And in return he wanted them to be happy, because they deserved more than he could give, despite how hard he tried.

His mind went back to the dream he had, conjuring the image of the infant he tried so hard to soothe. He couldn't remember the gender of the baby, but his lips tugged upward in a slight grin as he imagined it was a girl—a baby girl who looked every bit as beautiful as her mother. But would it really be like that? he wondered. Would it all be a nightmare he wished would go away?

He curled his right hand into a fist, trying to stem his urge to throw something. He didn't want Louisa to spend the rest of her life disappointed and resentful towards him, but no matter how he pictured that imaginary second child, it all just felt like a nightmare he thought he would never wake up from.

There was a knock on the door and at first Martin didn't acknowledge it, but Morwenna's questioning voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Doc?" she inquired in a cheery tone until she noticed the contemplative gaze he held with the surface of his desk.

Martin glanced up at his receptionist. "What?"

"Your eleven-thirty cancelled," she explained as she remained rooted to the doorway of the room.

"Thank you."

Morwenna's features softened as she took in the sight of her employer. He'd obviously been thinking about something, as he often did, but he looked defeated sitting there at his desk, his gaze trained on his mobile phone. "Is everything alright, Doc?"

"Hmm?"

"It's just . . . You've been awfully quiet this morning, which is hard to believe."

"I've had something on my mind, is all."

"Well maybe you should get some fresh air?" Morwenna suggested as she took a step further into the room. "It's a nice day out there today."

Uncurling his fist, Martin drummed the fingers of his right hand over the surface of his desk, thinking. "Right," he murmured. "When's the next patient due?"

"Not until half past twelve."

Picking up his phone and slipping it into the front pocket of his suit, Martin stood from his chair. "Then I'll be out until then."

Morwenna smiled, happy that he took her advice for once. "I think Janice took James out for a walk not too long ago. I could give her a call and have her meet you somewhere?"

Martin shook his head. As much as he would have liked to spend some time with James, he'd only feel awkward with Janice there. "I'd rather just go alone."

"Okay. Do I have your permission to call you if there's anything urgent, or do you wish not to be disturbed while you're out?"

"No, it's fine." He brushed past her and out to the waiting room.

"Enjoy your walk!" Morwenna called after him.

The sun shone high as Martin left the surgery and began his trek down Roscarrock Hill. It wasn't warm out, but pleasant enough that he didn't need an overcoat. As he passed by the pharmacy, Mrs. Tishell was outside with her husband arranging postcard displays by the front door. She noticed him and called out with a raised hand, "Good afternoon, Dr. Ellingham! Beautiful day, isn't it?!"

He briefly glanced at her, but other than that paid her no attention. As the school came into view, Martin hesitated, thinking about stopping to see if Louisa was free for lunch. But he kept walking, until he caught sight of her in the windows at the side of the building. He came to a halt and watched her. She must have filled in for one of the teachers because it looked as if she were teaching a class.

He was unsure of how long he'd been standing there. Her back was still facing the window, unaware that he was staring at her. He could almost hear his aunt's comment from the first days of his arrival in Portwenn: _"You're skulking,"_ she had said as she unloaded produce from the back of her truck. Of course, he denied it then.

"I'm not skulking," he muttered to himself as he watched his wife lean close to a student and point out something they were doing in the books for their lesson. Then she suddenly turned, but she still didn't notice him. He observed that the cream-couloured cardigan she had on was unbuttoned, and the scooped neckline of her dress caused a hitch in his breathing, though it wasn't revealing in the slightest. She always took his breath away, no matter what.

He had to fix things, or at least attempt to patch up their disagreement. He couldn't bear to see her unhappy. He'd been the cause of it before. And he was determined not to let it be his doing again, for the sake of both of them.

With much reluctance, Martin tore his gaze away from the window and headed up the street, thinking of the only person he knew willing to understand his troubles.

"Ruth!" Martin shouted, while simultaneously knocking on the door of his aunt's cottage. "Ruth!"

A moment later the door was yanked open. "Martin, what on earth?" his aunt replied as she came face to face with him, not looking too happy at being interrupted.

"I need someone to talk to," he said as he stepped inside the house.

"Come on in then," she answered dryly. "Shall I start the kettle?"

"That would be fine, I suppose."

As Ruth headed for the kitchen, Martin took a seat on the sofa in the living room, folding his hands in his lap. While he waited, he went over in his head all that he wanted to say, rehearsing the lines as if he were to forget.

"Is it something serious?" Ruth asked as she returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea.

"Not necessarily," Martin replied as he took the cup she offered him.

"Well it must be something important for you to drop in at this hour of the day."

"A patient cancelled, so I took the opportunity."

"I see." She blew over her mug of tea before taking a hesitant sip. When he failed to continue, Ruth let out a sigh. "Alright, out with it. It won't do either of us any good just sitting here."

Martin looked down at his suit. "Right." He brushed his thumb back and forth over the smooth handle of his mug, trying to discern the most logical way to begin. "I had a dream last night," he started to explain, "and it's been on my mind most of the morning. I don't really know what to make of it and I thought you might provide some insight into its meaning."

She was about to say something dry and sarcastic about that specific area of psychology, but noting the anxious expression he exhibited, she held her tongue instead. "Right, then. Shall we start from the beginning?"

Taking a drink of his tea and then inhaling a deep breath, Martin relayed the events he could remember of his dream.

Ruth pursed her lips after he finished, deep in thought, but not surprised that her dear sister-in law made yet another ill-fated appearance in her son's life. "And this was after you and Louisa discussed having another child?"

"Yes, I mean no." He shook his head, feeling flustered by her questioning. "That is, Louisa brought up the idea, not me."

"And you're not keen?" she asked suddenly.

Martin hesitated. "I'm not sure. That's why I dropped by."

Ruth folded her hands in her lap. "Martin, I can't make these decisions for you. This is your life—a life you and Louisa have built together, and one she wants to build even further."

"Yes, I realise that, but . . ."

"What?"

"I just don't understand what my mother has to do with it all."

Ruth tightened her grip on her fingers, disliking even the mention of the woman. "Her appearance could have something to do with your uncertainty at being a parent—why you feel so hesitant to accept Louisa's decision. Granted I'm not an expert in this area, but, Martin, you've been through quite a lot as a child, and I remember when she was last here . . ."

"But it's not just her." Martin pulled on a loose thread from the cuff of his suit. "It's me. I can't handle it. My career—this village—constantly requires my attention. How can I give that to another child when I know I can't? Louisa thinks she understands, but she doesn't. I've given my entire life to being a doctor—and I'm not just good at it—I'm exceptional at it."

"You are, Martin. Probably better than your father ever was. But you need to say this to Louisa. She has to know. It's not healthy, especially in a marriage that's already been through enough as it is."

Martin set down his mug of tea and brought a hand up to his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. "It's a nightmare, Ruth. I can't get it out of my head."

Ruth leaned over in her chair to grasp one of her nephew's hands. "Try picturing it the way Louisa would."

Martin furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Knowing your wife, I'd say she imagines the three of you—or four of you in the near future—as happy as can be. She deserves to hear your opinion, Martin, but you can't always concentrate on the worst of things. There's always two sides to a coin. Think about that other side, and at least give Louisa the benefit of the doubt before you make any big decisions."

Reaching up and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, Martin sighed. "I just want her to be happy."

"I know you do." Breaking free of her reserved exterior, Ruth took hold of his hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "But, for once, I think it's time that you clear some space for your own happiness as well."

Martin stared down at their entwined hands. He couldn't remember the last affectionate moment he shared with his aunt—if there ever was any. "I'll try."

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Ruth's mouth. "Good." She stood up from her chair and followed him to the front door. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Mm," he grunted as he clasped his hands behind his back.

She smiled again. "And maybe not too far off I'll have another great niece or nephew?"

"Yes, well . . ." He pulled his arm out from behind to check his watch.

She reached up and patted his shoulder. "There's no need to overthink it. Sometimes we just need to let the pieces fall where they may."

He grunted again. "Um, thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome, Martin."

He tilted his head goodbye then ducked under the doorway and headed down her footpath. Walking down the narrow street towards the heart of the village, Martin felt he could almost breathe again. He still had a big decision to make, and he was willing to take his aunt's advice, knowing he'd do almost anything to make his wife happy.

His phone chirped, so quiet he almost didn't hear it. Pulling the device from his front pocket, he unlocked the digital screen to find a text message from Louisa: _We need to talk._

The air suddenly left his lungs as if he were kicked in the stomach. What was that supposed to mean? he wondered. He knew well enough that those four words were never a good sign, especially in tandem with the strained morning they shared earlier. Looking up as he continued walking, Martin kept his thumb hovering over the digital keyboard, unsure if he should respond or not. Eventually he quickly typed out: _Yes. After dinner, tonight._ He tapped the send icon and switched off the phone, shoving it back into his pocket.

Straightening his shoulders out, he walked with a purpose back to the surgery, unsure of the evening to come.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-seven

Louisa was back in her office for the day, having filled in for the year five teacher that morning. She had to admit that it was refreshing to be back in the classroom for once rather than stuck in an office all day doing paperwork. And for the time being, the children provided a distraction from what weighed heavily on her mind.

She picked up her pen and set to work on the latest stack of staff appraisals when a knock sounded on the open door of her office. She looked up to find Elliot standing in the entryway, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Sorry to bother you," he said with a smile as one hand clutched a history book to his chest. "But I wanted to know if you've recovered from our run yesterday? I feel awful that I may have pushed you too hard."

Louisa smiled weakly in return, not really in the mood to discuss after school activities. "I'm fine. A bit stiff this morning, but nothing I can't handle."

His eyes sparkled. "Good." He was about to leave but hesitated. "You know, I was going to head out again later this afternoon. You're welcome to join me if you want to."

"That's awfully nice of you, Elliot, but I don't think so. I've had a trying day already . . ."

Elliot's smile faltered. "No, of course." There was an awkward silence between them. "I have a lesson to finish planning so I should probably get to it. See you later though. Maybe?"

Louisa forced another smile. "Maybe." She waited until he left before letting out a sigh. This day couldn't end soon enough, she thought to herself. The queasiness she felt earlier that morning returned and she reached for her water bottle, glad for the cool, refreshing taste of the spring water.

Then her eyes began to blur with tears as her suspicions over the last week became clear. It was a feeling she remembered all too well, but the circumstances surrounding it brought back painful memories. She reached for her phone, determined to get this settled once and for all.

After sending Martin a text message that they needed to talk, Louisa brought a hand up to her face. Her phone vibrated a minute later and she read his response. At least they were on the same page for once.

. . .

Later that evening, as Louisa rounded the surgery towards the back door, she tried to prepare herself for the talk they scheduled to have. She wanted to laugh; the idea that they had to plan out their conversations seemed somewhat ridiculous. But it wasn't just any conversation. This was their future.

"Hello?" Louisa announced as she opened the door to the kitchen, her voice quiet and hesitant. She gave Martin a weak smile when he turned to face her from his seat at the table.

"Hello," he answered back, his tone just as uncertain as hers. "I thought I'd give James his dinner early. Since we have to, um . . . We were going to talk."

"Yes. Good idea." Louisa set her school bag down and hung up her coat. Straightening out her ponytail, she moved towards James to greet him. "And did you have a good day today, James?" she asked before bending down to kiss his forehead.

James giggled and reached out for the small pile of shells that rested near the edge of the table. "Mum-ee! Shell!" he pointed, then turned to look up at her.

Martin cleared his throat before explaining, "He and Janet went for a walk on the beach earlier. James thought it a good idea to bring home microorganisms."

"Martin," Louisa admonished under her breath with a roll of her eyes. "I think it's sweet." She looked down at James. "Maybe Daddy can help you identify some of those microorganisms? Since he's such an expert." She peered up at him through lowered eyelashes.

Martin shook his head. "Unlikely. I already sterilized them."

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Well problem solved then."

"Yes." He stared at her for a moment. "Um, how was your day?"

She let out a tired sigh. "I've had better."

"Right." He looked down at the table. "I bought a fish earlier, unless there's something else you wanted?"

Louisa shook her head. "No, fish is fine. I've gotten used to it by now." She smiled slightly.

"Yes." Martin glanced away from her towards James, feeling uncomfortable by their stilted conversation.

"I'm going to go freshen up," Louisa announced as she gestured towards the stairs, breaking the awkward silence between them.

He gazed up at her. "Yes." As he watched her leave, Martin let out a sigh, already dreading the rest of the evening.

Dinner between the two was quiet, every once and a while engaging in small talk, but nevertheless, both feeling anxious for the other to bring up the topic of their discussion. It wasn't until after checking on James that Louisa decided she better put them both out of their misery. Giving her son one last look and a kiss to his forehead, Louisa quietly left the room and headed back downstairs.

Martin had just finished with the washing up and was tidying the kitchen table when Louisa stopped at the step separating the kitchen from the living room. "How is he?" Martin asked as he folded a dish towel.

"Still asleep," she said, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes cast down as if deep in thought. "Hopefully for the remainder of the night."

Hanging the towel on the door of the cooker, Martin turned to face her. "Um, Louisa," he began, but she cut him off, throwing him completely off guard.

"I think I'm pregnant, Martin," she declared suddenly, raising her gaze to meet his.

Feeling stunned, Martin didn't think he heard her properly. "What?"

Louisa stepped up into the kitchen, the table separating them. "I think I'm pregnant." She waited for him to say something but he remained silent and unmoving, his eyes widening ever so slightly as her announcement finally began to sink in.

"Right. I see," Martin finally replied, but quickly added, "And you're sure? I mean, you took a pregnancy test to confirm?"

Louisa shook her head. "I'm fairly certain I am. But no, I haven't done a test. You know this village, Martin. If Mrs. Tishell sees me purchasing a pregnancy test word will spread like the plague." She paused and moved around the table to stand in front of him. "I want this to be just between us." She reached for his hand. "In case I'm not pregnant."

Martin looked down at their joined hands. "Then I suggest we find out for sure."

Louisa continued to stare back at him, unsure of what to make of his reaction. She could see a flicker of fear in his eyes, out of surprise more than anything, but she hoped there was at least some semblance of happiness in them. "Are you disappointed? Because if I remember correctly, this morning you told me—"

"I'm not upset," he interrupted as he inched closer to her with every word. "Surprised, yes, but you could never disappoint me, Louisa. I'm usually the one that's a disappointment."

Louisa gripped his hand tighter, relief and sadness washing over her at the same time. "You are not a disappointment, Martin—not to me." She reached up to play with the collar of his shirt, smiling up at him widely. "You're my extraordinary man."

"Am I really?"

"Yes. And you're a wonderful father, albeit a little stiff at times. But James loves you, and so will the new baby—I'm sure of it." Pulling their joined hands towards her, she let them rest on the flat of her abdomen. "And pregnant or not, I love you—I always will."

Martin stared down at his hand splayed over her stomach, wondering if there really was life growing inside or not. Before her sudden declaration, he was still unsure if another child was what they needed in their lives, but now that the decision might have already been made for them, he began to think that the prospect of it might not be so terrible after all.

"If you are pregnant, Louisa, I promise to be there for you. I won't push you away. I was awful to you during your pregnancy with James and I won't make the same mistakes I did then. I was afraid . . ." He looked down at the floor for a moment. "And I missed you terribly while you were in London. Then to see that you were . . . and you withheld it from me for so long . . . I felt angry. I apologise for what I put you through. And I will support you no matter what . . . that is, if you'll let me?"

Louisa was on the verge of tears, her emotions getting the better of her at her husband's moving speech. She had worried all day—for the past week more likely—for what he'd think over the news, and the last thing she expected was for him to accept it so amiably. "Oh, Martin . . ." Wrapping her arms around his neck, Louisa leaned up and pressed her lips to his in a fervent and desperate kiss. "Of course I'll let you," she breathed out, pulling away from him but keeping her arms loosely secured around his neck. "And you're not the only one to blame. I assumed then that you wouldn't want to be involved in James's life and I was wrong—so very wrong, Martin. And this time . . ." She brought one hand from around his neck to rest on his cheek. "This time we'll do it together—as we're meant to."

"Yes." For the first time that evening, Martin smiled, albeit a small one, but a grin nevertheless.

Once again, tears gathered in Louisa's eyes as his smile caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle, finally showing that flicker of happiness she hoped to see. "I've been worried all day about what you'd think," she said as her tears finally slipped down her cheeks.

Martin hesitated but reached down to swipe away a trail of her tears with his thumb. "But we need to find out for sure, in case you aren't."

"I'm just so happy that you've accepted the possibility." She took hold of his wrist as his fingers stilled on her cheek.

"I've only ever wanted you to be happy, Louisa." He paused to take in a deep breath. "I'll admit that I'm afraid—afraid I won't be good enough for our children. I never knew how much I wanted a family of my own until James arrived. And I know sometimes I can be difficult, that I'm not perfect with James, but I will try to be . . . because I want to be a good father . . . and I want to be the husband that you deserve."

Louisa shook her head, her emotions elevating to a new height. "I've never seen such change from you before, Martin. I practically forced it on you when I left for Spain, but I've felt so much closer to you now than I did since our spoiled honeymoon. My whole life I've wanted everything to be perfect. But being with you has given me a whole new perspective . . ." She pulled his hand away from her face to entwine their fingers. "And I rather like the life we've shared together so far, despite all its difficulties."

"Do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do."

With an internal sigh of relief, Martin pulled Louisa in to a tight embrace, arms wrapping around one another. Turning his head slightly, Martin let his lips gently caress her cheek as one of her hands came up to grasp the back of his head, her fingers lightly skimming through his hair. They held one another for what seemed like minutes, until Martin broke the silence, "Louisa?"

"Hmm?" she hummed against the side of his neck.

"When exactly was your last menstrual cycle?"

Louisa's eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Mar-tin!" she admonished, pulling away from their embrace, though she almost laughed. At least there was one thing about him that hadn't changed.

"What?" He tilted his head in that questioning way of his.

"I know we engage in certain intimate activities from time to time, but I'll still never be comfortable with you asking me questions like that."

"But I'm your doctor. And as someone who thinks she may be expecting it's a perfectly reasonable question. Any physician would ask."

Louisa scrunched her nose in disgust. "I know. But it just feels awkward being asked questions about myself like that."

"But you did miss it, correct?"

Louisa nodded. "It's been a little over a week."

"Mm," he grunted. "Not always a reliable symptom to go on. I'll take a blood sample."

"What? Now?"

Martin stared at her for a minute, his expression serious as he shifted back to his medical nature. "Don't you want to find out if you're pregnant or not?"

"Yes, but . . ."

Martin didn't let her finish as he spun around and led the way to his consulting room. "Good. Come through."

Louisa shook her head as she followed her husband, sitting down in the chair across from his desk once she entered his office. She began to roll up the sleeve of her cardigan as she watched him wash his hands then snap on a pair of gloves. He pulled his medical cart over and rifled through it for the necessary supplies. "How long will it take for the results?" she asked as he leaned over and secured a tourniquet to her upper arm then swabbed the crook of her elbow with antiseptic.

Martin glanced up at her as he waited for the medial cubital vein to appear more accessible. "About a week," he replied as he slipped a sterile needle into the distended vein.

Louisa winced, closing her eyes at the slight pinch as he inserted the needle. Opening her eyes, she witnessed his continuous struggle with his phobia as he turned away from the blood drawing up the syringe.

Expertly sensing when enough blood was taken, Martin turned his gaze back to her arm and pulled the needle out, replacing it with a small square of gauze. "Press down," he instructed as he removed the tourniquet from around her upper arm. He remained seated on his stool as he transferred the blood sample to a test tube for analysis.

Louisa stayed quiet as she kept pressure on the puncture site in her arm. She wondered how often he had to deal with his blood phobia. Probably almost daily, she thought to herself. Her features softened as he stood up to dispose of the used needle and syringe, understanding what a struggle it was for him. She wanted to offer a suggestion of help, but kept silent. She knew he didn't like to talk about it, and putting him in a sombre mood would be of no help to either of them.

"I'll have the sample be sent off for analysis tomorrow morning," Martin said as he finished washing his hands. "I can try and get the results as soon as possible, but it depends on how busy the lab is."

Louisa relaxed her closed fist and removed the patch of gauze, making sure the bleeding had stopped. "Martin, I'm thrilled by how eager you are, but for the time being can we just imagine that it's positive? I want to savour our good news, at least for a few days."

He finished labeling a plastic bag and slipped the sealed sample inside. "I suppose so."

She smiled and reached for his hand. "Good. Now come sit with me."

Martin nearly dropped the bag containing her blood sample as she practically dragged him from the room. "Louisa?"

"I just want to spend some time with you," she said as she sat down on the sofa in the living room, pulling him along with her.

"I don't understand?" he sputtered, nearly toppling over her as he sat down. "We just . . ."

"I know we already talked. But I just want to be next to you for a while." She pulled his right arm around her shoulders and shifted to fit herself snugly against his side.

"I see." He gazed down at her as her head tilted to rest against his jaw. "Have you been feeling nauseous at all?"

"A little, mostly in the morning and around midday, but other than that I've been fine."

Her voice began to waver and Martin feared he might have asked too soon. "Is something wrong? Louisa?"

She turned in their embrace so she could rest one hand over his chest. "I'm sorry I'm so emotional. I just . . . I was reminded of the first time . . . when I was alone . . ."

Martin let a harsh breath leave his nose. He didn't need to be reminded, especially of a time he wasn't present. "I see."

"I wanted so badly to tell you, you know," she confessed, while tracing the intricate pattern of his blue tie with her finger. He remained silent and Louisa hesitated, but continued, "When I first found out about James my first thought was of you . . . and I was scared of what you'd think. We hadn't spoken since we parted ways from the wedding we both dreaded, and I just couldn't do it. I knew a child was the last thing you'd want, so I kept it to myself." She pulled away to look up at him. "I know now that I should have told you sooner." Her bottom lip began to quiver and she felt his grip on her shoulder tighten.

"I know," he said, the corners of his eyes softening as he gazed down at her.

"This is how it should have been."

"Yes." He leaned over to let his lips caress her hair in a soft kiss. "And I will do what I should have done, because you mean so much to me."

Louisa let her eyes drift shut, determined to cherish his sweet words. "Say it again?" she requested softly, the hand on his chest drifting down to curl around his waist.

Martin brushed back the lock of hair that fell across her eyes, causing her to look up at him. "I love you, Louisa."

She smiled. "Even better." Tilting her chin up, Louisa kissed the corner of his mouth.

A slight blush crept its way into Martin's cheeks and up to his ears. He grinned back at her, feeling overcome with emotion. "Now it's your turn."

"Mmm, but you already know what I'm going to say."

"Yes. But convince me anyway."

Pulling away once more to gaze into his pale blue eyes, she reciprocated his earlier sentiment, "I love you, Martin Ellingham—more so with each passing day."

He wanted to roll his eyes at her over exaggeration, but refrained from doing so. He could hear it in her voice how much she meant it, and he believed her wholeheartedly.

"Was that convincing enough for you?"

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "Almost."

"Then how about now?" Closing the distance between them, Louisa leaned over and firmly pressed her lips to his.

Martin let his eyes drift shut as he sighed into her mouth at the contact. He squared himself against her, wrapping both arms around her to deepen their kiss.

Finally pulling away to catch their breath, Louisa let her forehead rest against his, her fingers moving up to his cheeks to smooth out the fine hairs by his ears.

"Now I think you've convinced me," Martin breathed out, his eyes still closed, feeling loved and comforted by her closeness.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-eight

After waking up early Saturday morning and deciding he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, Martin quietly pulled himself from the bed and headed for the bathroom to shower. Waiting for the results of Louisa's blood test left him restless the last few days.

Since he was aware of the possibility, Martin kept a close eye on Louisa, watching for any sign or indication that she could be expecting. The eagerness he felt surprised him at first, but the slight grin that reflected in the mirror only strengthened his hope that it could be true.

After toweling his hair dry, Martin reached for his razor and began applying shaving foam to his jaw and chin. He wasn't prepared for Louisa to come up behind him, and when he felt a pair of hands glide over his bare shoulders, he jumped, letting out a yelp as the blade of the razor nicked the underside of his jaw. "Ow! For God's sake!" he bellowed, desperately reaching over for a tissue to stop the flow of blood from the tiny wound. He glared at Louisa in the mirror, who was standing behind him with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry!" she cried out. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's early. What are you doing up?" he asked, his anger quickly subsiding.

"I heard the shower running. What were _you_ doing up so early?"

Martin continued to put pressure on the small cut on his jaw. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh."

He finished shaving and rinsed his face free of the foamy residue, placing a small square of toilet paper over the area of skin his razor grazed.

"Mm, smooth," Louisa purred as she stepped closer to run a finger over his newly-shaven cheek.

"Louisa . . ." He nearly gasped as he felt her warm breath on the side of his neck.

"What?"

"You're distracting me."

"That's kind of the point, Martin," she said as she leaned up on the balls of her feet, balancing herself with her hands on his shoulders so she could whisper in his ear.

Martin tensed at the carnal language she spoke with. He swallowed hard, once again feeling her hands roam over his shoulders and down his bare arms.

"Martin? Have you been working out? You feel more firm than I remember." Louisa squeezed the firm ridge of muscle in his upper arm.

Martin shook his head, sputtering, "I-I . . . a little." He cleared his throat, desperately hoping for a change of topic.

A smile lit up Louisa's face. "When? I can't recall you ever exercising."

"I, um . . . in the mornings. Before you get up I've been doing pushups and sit-ups. I . . ." He looked away from her gaze in the mirror, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Martin. I think it shows initiative." She reached up and ran a hand through the damp hair at the back of his head. "Now I won't be able to keep my hands off you."

Still feeling embarrassed, Martin tried to twist out of her embrace. "Yes, well . . . I should get dressed."

"If you insist." He turned out of her arms and she took the opportunity to kiss him good morning. "You forgot," she said, pulling away only slightly to let her nose rest against his.

"Mm, yes." His eyes sparkled for a moment. "I'll have to make it up to you now."

Louisa smiled. "I'll hold you to it."

"Yes."

She kissed the corner of his mouth and stepped back. "I'll let you get dressed while I wake James. Do you want me to start breakfast?"

"No, I can do it."

"Okay." She smiled once more before heading back to their bedroom towards James's room.

While they ate breakfast, Martin paged through his medical journal, scouring for any material related to geriatric pregnancies. Though he wasn't very interested in gynecology or obstetrics, Louisa's health and safety was his primary concern. And if she was expecting, he'd rather be prepared, in the event that an unexpected situation should arise.

"I thought we could go out for a walk later?" Louisa suggested as she wiped James's mouth free of his breakfast. "Martin?" She nudged his foot under the table to get his attention.

"What?" He finally looked up from his reading.

"I was saying that I think we should go for a walk later. Maybe a stroll on the beach or along the coastal path?"

"Mm. Is it warm enough?"

"Well the sun's out . . ."

"Right." Feeling frustrated that he couldn't find anything worth reading, Martin pushed his journal aside and stood from his chair.

"We don't have to," Louisa said, sensing he wasn't in the mood to go out. "I was only suggesting."

"Yes, I know." He fumbled with the plate he was rinsing and the ceramic _clank_ against the sink startled James, who cried out at the noise.

"Shh, it's alright James," Louisa soothed as she moved to pick him up from his high chair. "Are you alright, Martin? You seem a little on edge this morning."

"I'm fine," he assured her as he placed his used plate in the dishwasher. "I've had something on my mind is all."

Louisa raised an eyebrow as James finally settled in her arms. "Maybe a walk will clear things up a bit?"

"Mm."

. . .

A short while later, despite Martin's insistence that he was fine, Louisa practically dragged him out of the house and down to the beach for a walk. They brought along a blanket so they could sit and watch James as he explored.

"Oh, look!" Louisa said as she pointed towards James, who was a few yards away playing with the other children on the beach. "Looks like James made some friends at nursery school."

"He's twenty months old. I doubt he even understands the concept of friendship."

"Mar-tin," she admonished under her breath. "He doesn't have to understand it yet. Just as long as he's happy."

Martin watched James and the other children with a curled lip. "I hope those children are vaccinated."

Louisa reached over and covered his hand with her own. "Let's leave the medical concerns at home for a while, shall we? We're here to have fun, Martin." She turned to look at him. "And loosen up a bit. It'll do you good." She nudged his upper arm with her elbow, indicating his stiff posture.

Martin let out a sigh and straightened his legs out on the blanket and leaned back on the palms of his hands. "Is that better?"

"Much improved." She smiled and shifted closer to him. "It's such a lovely day."

"Mm," he grunted as he turned his gaze back towards James, squinting against the bright sun. "Did you remember to put sun block on James?"

"Yes."

"The kind specifically for children?"

"Yes, Martin." She rolled her eyes.

"Good." Knowing that Louisa was keeping an eye on James, Martin turned to look at her discretely. Her dark hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail and her cheeks took on a rosy hue from the sun. She never looked more beautiful.

"Can I interest you in a shell bracelet, sir?"

Martin looked up at the girl standing in front of them. She looked to be about ten, and she held up an arm adorned with strings of homemade jewelry. "No thank you."

"Mar-tin." Louisa elbowed him in the side before turning back to the young girl. "What about that one?" She pointed to one of the bracelets on the girl's arm. The girl pulled off the string of shells and handed it to Louisa. "How much?"

"A pound," the girl replied.

"Martin, did you bring your wallet?"

"Yes, but, Louisa, you can't seriously be thinking of buying that? It's nonsense."

"Mar-tin!" She elbowed him harder. "Don't mind him," she said, looking back to the girl. "He just doesn't know art when he sees it."

"Louisa, I know what art is and that's not it."

A disheartened expression fell over the girl's face as she looked down at her sandals.

Louisa whipped her head around to face him once more. "Martin Ellingham!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "You are hurting that little girl's feelings. Now pull out your wallet and buy your wife that bracelet!"

Martin tightened his jaw, not wanting to give in. "Fine," he finally acquiesced. He reached inside his suit and pulled out his wallet. "The smallest I have is a five. Can you—"

"Perfect." Louisa snatched the note from him and handed it to the girl. "Here you are. And keep the change."

The girl beamed. "Thank you, miss."

"You're very welcome." Louisa took the bracelet from the girl and held it up to inspect it then turned to look at her husband, who wasn't at all enthused. "What?"

"You spent five pounds on that piece of detritus. Honestly, Louisa . . ."

"Martin, I used to do the same thing when I was her age. And what if that was our daughter? Would you be so quick to tell her that her arts and crafts were nonsense?"

"For starters I wouldn't allow my child to walk around the beach by themselves selling jewelry to strangers." At Louisa's exasperated sigh, he added, "No, I wouldn't. But we don't have a daughter now do we. So what does it matter?" He didn't wait for a response as his attention was suddenly pulled elsewhere by the shrill cry of his son.

"Da-ee!" James squealed as he started to run towards Martin, but he didn't get far. Tripping over his shoes, the toddler fell face down in the sand, letting out another piercing cry.

"Oh, James," Louisa gasped. She moved to sit up but Martin stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

"I've got him," he said as he pulled himself up from the blanket and rushed over to their son.

"Alright, James. You're just fine." He leaned down and picked him up. James's face was covered with sand and a mixture of saliva and tears. He looked the toddler over as he brought him back to Louisa. "Um, I think he wants you."

"Come here, James." Louisa held out her hands and Martin transferred a tearful James to her arms. She wiped off his face with a disposable napkin she fished out of the nappy bag. He continued to cry softly and Louisa held him close to her chest, tucking his head underneath her chin. "What happened?" she asked Martin, turning to look at him expectantly.

"I'm not sure," he answered as he settled himself back down on the blanket beside her. "He looks alright to me." Reaching over, Martin ran his fingers over James's face and head, probing for any bumps or lesions.

"Did you get overexcited, James?" Louisa pulled away to look down at their son. James just turned and buried his face in her neck.

"I knew we should have stayed home."

"Don't be such a spoil sport, Martin. James was enjoying himself earlier. Aren't you always saying how James needs the fresh air and physical activity?"

"Yes, well . . ." He looked down as his fingers played with the edge of the blanket, knowing she was right.

"Oh, look!" Louisa pointed to the ice cream truck that came to a halt on the Platt, its cheerful music attracting the children on the beach. "Maybe some ice cream will you cheer you up, James?"

Martin scrunched his nose at her suggestion. "Louisa, he doesn't need any ice cream. It's filled with—"

"Fat and sugar. Yes, I know. But he can share a cone with me. For all we know he won't even like it." She turned to face him with pleading eyes. "It's a beautiful day out. Why not indulge ourselves?"

Martin let out a long sigh. "Fine. What flavor would you like?" He stood up and brushed his trousers free of sand.

Louisa tilted her head as if deep in thought. "Vanilla sounds good."

"Right."

She watched as his long legs propelled him toward the ice cream truck, dodging running children in the process.

"Afternoon, Doc!"

Martin frowned as Penhale caught his attention. The constable was sitting on the bench that overlooked the beach, Janice beside him, both licking ice cream cones of their own. "Mm," he grunted his acknowledgment. "You've been resting I hope? No strenuous activity?"

Penhale grinned. "Of course not."

Janice smirked in response. "Resting?" Penhale tried to quiet her but to no avail. "I don't recall what we did this morning as resting."

Martin's frown deepened. "Oh, God."

Penhale slunk down on the bench, his face turning red with embarrassment. "What can I say, Doc? We're getting married soon . . ."

"Oh, whatever." His expression turned serious. "But you must rest. Otherwise you'll do further damage to your sternum and ribcage."

"Further damage? Joe?" Janice turned to question him.

Penhale shook his head. "It's nothing. Just a bit of pain in my chest."

"Joe? Why didn't you tell me?"

Martin curled his lip as the couple began to argue back and forth. Turning away, he walked the few remaining strides to the ice cream vendor.

"Um, here."

Louisa turned from her gaze across the sea to take the dripping ice cream cone from his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Martin." She licked away the soft and melting edges before offering some to James. He didn't seem very interested in it, but when Louisa touched the creamy confection to his lips, the toddler stuck out his tongue to taste it. "What do you think, James?" He reached out an arm to grab at the cone and Louisa laughed. "I think he likes it."

"God . . ."

Louisa rolled her eyes. "It's just ice cream, Martin."

"Yes, I know. But exposing children to sugar at such a young age will only entice them further once they're grown and developed."

"Well it's a good thing he has you to look after his diet then."

"Mm."

"Just taste a little bit, Martin."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. You've already shared it with James."

Without hesitation, Louisa leaned over and swiped the ice cream cone over his lower lip. She smiled as she tried to stifle her laugh. "Oops, sorry, Martin."

Martin creased his brow into another frown. "You did that on purpose."

"I'm trying to get you to have fun."

"I don't think _fun_ entails being covered in frozen milk and sugar." He reached for a napkin to wipe his face off, but Louisa stopped him.

"No, wait. I'll do it." Leaning forward, James still cradled in her lap, Louisa pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to lick away the sticky residue on his lower lip.

Martin pulled away abruptly, surprised by her bold actions. "Louisa!" He again reached for the nappy bag and pulled out a napkin, wiping his mouth and chin thoroughly.

"What?"

"We're out in public!"

"So?"

"Well, someone could see us," he sputtered.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he still that self-conscious about public displays of affection? "Martin, this whole village practically witnessed us kiss at our wedding. I don't see how this is any different?"

"It's completely different!" he argued back forcefully. "That was a display on the grounds of a religious ceremony. What we do now with each other is private."

"And that's how you'd like to keep it?"

Martin hesitated at first. "Yes."

"Well I don't."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "What I mean, is that I want you to hold my hand when we walk through the village; kiss me when we sit on the beach or relax in a park with James; to show me that some part of you cares."

Martin furrowed his brow. "Louisa, you know I care about you . . ."

"Yes. But I want everyone else to know. Even Joe and Janice are more forward with their relationship in public than we are." She turned around to indicate the couple who were huddled close together on the bench near the Platt. "I just thought it would be sweet and romantic—like in the movies."

"I see." Though he began to wonder what movies she'd seen that involved licking ice cream off one another's faces.

Martin looked down at the hands folded in his lap. "I didn't know you were trying to be romantic. I thought you were making a joke out of me because I don't enjoy ice cream."

Louisa's expression finally softened. "Martin," she began in a tender voice, "you know I'd never ridicule you like that. I didn't intend for my actions to hurt you."

"I'm more comfortable keeping that side of things between us private. I don't mean to upset you . . ."

Louisa shifted closer to him on the blanket, covering his hand with her own. "I'm not upset. I overreacted when I shouldn't have. And you're right. The more intimate aspect of our relationship is private, but this . . ." She entwined their fingers together and held their joined hands up. "This is what I want everyone else to see."

"And that will make you happy?"

"I'm already happy, Martin, but yes. Holding your hand in public would make me happy."

She squeezed his hand and he felt himself relax, glad that she was no longer cross with him. "Um, Louisa, your ice cream is melting," Martin pointed out, noticing the white dessert dripping onto the blanket.

"What?" Looking down, Louisa's eyes widened at the sight. James reached down to touch the drops of melted ice cream, but Martin intercepted him as he let Louisa clean up the mess. "I completely forgot I had it in my hand," she said as she rolled what was left of the ice cream cone in a bundle of paper napkins. "We've certainly made a mess of things, haven't we?"

"Mm, not really."

"I meant the ice cream, Martin."

"Yes, I know. The blanket can be washed, don't worry."

"Thank you for coming with us," she said after she finished cleaning up the spilled ice cream.

"Yes. I do enjoy spending time with you and James, Louisa. I . . ." Martin looked down as he kneaded a finger into the palm of his hand. "I just thought you should know."

"Of course I know, Martin. But hearing you say it makes it even more special."

Martin continued to avoid eye contact with her as he fought to express his latest fear. "I-I'm sorry I've been so distant with you over the last few days." He paused to take in a deep breath. "I'm worried about you." He finally peered up at her with a hesitant look.

Louisa furrowed her brow, adjusting James in her arms, who was starting to feel heavy as he began to doze off. "What for?"

He gestured toward her midsection. "Your pregnancy. That is, if it's confirmed. Given your age there's a higher risk for complications during gestation and delivery and . . ." He felt her slim fingers curl around his hand again, creating a calming effect. "I'm afraid that something could happen—to you or the baby."

Louisa's expression softened at his words. "Martin," she breathed out. "I understand your concern. I've thought about it too, but I've been trying not to worry over it. Anyway, I have the best doctor there is to look after me." She smiled, hoping to lift his spirits a bit.

"Yes. But, Louisa, I'm not—that is, I'm not a gynecologist or an obstetrician. There's only so much I know . . ."

Louisa nodded. "I know, Martin. But the other side of you—my husband—will look after me no matter what."

"Yes," he managed to say, swallowing over the lump that formed in his throat.

She twisted a sleepy James around to cradle him up against her shoulder. "Everything will be alright—I'm sure of it." He nodded as she squeezed his hand. "We should probably think about heading home to get this one down for his nap."

"Yes." Martin took James from Louisa so she could gather up the blanket and nappy bag. "Louisa?"

"Yes."

"Do you still want me to hold your hand while we walk back?"

She smiled. "That would be lovely, Martin."

The corners of his mouth twitched and he reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. He let out a deep breath as they passed by several onlookers. It wasn't so bad after all, he thought as he felt one of James's arms curl around his neck. He felt safe and loved with his family. The others could be as envious as they liked.

 **A/N: So this chapter kind of ran away with itself. The beach scene ended up being longer than intended (which happens quite often during my writing as you've probably noticed). I originally planned to include the results of Louisa's blood test in this chapter but figured it might be a bit too long, so I apologize for making everyone wait yet another chapter for what we all hope to be true. And don't worry, there is still plenty more to come before we reach our ending (though we're slowly getting there). I do have the next installment planned out and hope to have it posted no later than the end of next week due to my busy schedule coming up. Again, thoughts and comments are always welcome as I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.**


	39. Chapter 39

**I'm terribly sorry for the super long wait everyone. I've been dealing with some minor health issues the past few weeks. I'm doing well, it's just been exhausting trying to get better and keeping up with school at the same time. I won't make any promises when my next update will be, but hopefully within the next couple of weeks, maybe sooner, depending on my schedule and how quick my writing comes to me. Anyway, the wait is finally over! I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter Thirty-nine

"Your test results should be in today," Martin said as he looked down at his watch, calculating when the surgery was due to open for the day.

Louisa just finished gathering her school bag together and had James settled in his pushchair before turning back towards Martin. "Will you let me know when they come in?"

"Yes. I could take you to lunch if I have time."

Louisa smiled. "That sounds lovely, Martin. Thank you."

"Yes." He cleared his throat, contemplating whether to kiss her goodbye or not. He moved towards James and leaned down to brush his fingers down the toddler's cheek. "Have a good day, James," he said, taking hold of his son's small hand before standing back up to face Louisa. "Um, I'll see you later?"

She continued to smile at him. "Yes."

There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Martin moved closer to Louisa. Hesitating at first, he swiftly leaned over and kissed her. He was surprised that when he began to pull away, Louisa reached up and grasped the lapels of his suit, deepening their embrace.

"Love you," she said once they parted.

"Yes."

Though he didn't say it back, Louisa knew he felt the same. She could see it in his eyes how much she meant to him. And she hoped that the results they'd been waiting for strengthened that fact.

"I'll, um . . . I'll let you know of my schedule later," Martin said as he took a step back.

"Yes. Maybe we can celebrate tonight?" she suggested, reaching over to straighten his dark-patterned tie. "Have Ruth over for dinner if the results are positive?"

Martin let his gaze flick about the kitchen, unsure if they were equipped to have company. "I don't know that we have enough for a celebratory dinner, Louisa."

"Then we'll go shopping. Or I can pick a few things up on my way home. Either way it's nothing to worry about."

Martin furrowed his brow. "But I thought you wanted to keep the pregnancy between us for a while?"

"I do. But I meant from the village. I should think Ruth would like to know."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Then it's all settled."

"Yes."

"I'll see you at lunch . . . maybe?" He nodded and Louisa pulled her schoolbag over her shoulder. "Can you say goodbye to Daddy, James?"

James turned in the pushchair to face his father, extending an arm and wiggling fingers. "Da-ee!" he giggled. "Bye!"

His son's enthusiasm caused the corners of Martin's mouth to twitch upwards in a slight smile. "Bye, James." He let James take hold of his middle and index fingers, marveled by how their sizes differed.

"Well I'll let you get to it, then," Louisa said as she opened the door of the kitchen.

"Yes." He waited until she and James had rounded the corner of the cottage before closing the door. After putting away the last of the breakfast dishes, Martin ducked into the hallway under the stairs, heading for the waiting room.

"You're early," he declared as he spotted Morwenna at her desk staring at the screen of her computer.

She looked up as he came to a stop by the filing cabinet. "I couldn't sleep last night, Doc. Figured I might as well come in to work early."

"I see. Do you have my schedule of today's appointments?"

"Yeah, right here." She switched back to the appointment scheduler to show him. "Oh, and some test results came in for . . ." She squinted at the screen to read the patient's name. "Louisa Ellingham?" Morwenna creased her brow and turned to look at Martin. "Doc?"

"It's none of your business."

"Yeah I get that. But is everything alright?"

He straightened his shoulders, doing his best to keep a straight face. "Yes."

"Would you like me to print them out for you?"

"No, I'll look over them on the computer in my office."

"If there's anything you need me to do . . ."

He pulled the first patient's notes from the filing cabinet and turned away towards the consulting room, his heart rate jumping a beat faster than normal.

In the privacy of his consulting room, Martin pulled out his laptop and opened the file containing his wife's test results. He didn't register the words at first as all he could picture were the scans of her brain showing the abnormal blood vessel that ultimately would have led to her death had he not made the repair. Taking in a deep breath, Martin focused his attention as he scrolled through the file, feeling his stomach flutter with butterflies.

And finally, there it was: the presence of hCG.

A slight smile formed and Martin instinctively reached for his phone to tell Louisa the good news, but he stopped himself. He couldn't tell her over the phone or by text message—it was too personal. She needed to hear it from him in person.

Turning back to his computer, he estimated her to be about eight to ten weeks along, given her elevated levels of hCG. Though it was just an estimate, he began to count back in his head, trying to figure her date of conception. Somewhere around the end of January, he discerned. But again, that was just an estimate. Her ultrasound would give them a better idea of where they were.

After downloading and saving the file on his computer, Martin rummaged around in the drawers of his desk, looking for the sonogram photo of James. He never gave it back to Louisa when he used it to consult her concerns over the size of their unborn child. Finally finding it, Martin stared down at the photo, his eyes tracing the silhouette of the black and white grainy image. Lost in his thoughts, Martin began to picture how their second child looked now. No bigger than an inch if he remembered correctly. And with a face he hoped resembled Louisa.

A knock on the door and Morwenna announcing the arrival of his first patient caused Martin to drop the sonogram photo. He placed it back in a desk drawer, making a mental note to remember to give it back to Louisa later, then closed the screen of his laptop. There was so much to prepare for already he could feel his stomach doing flip-flops, nervousness beginning to sink in, the feeling similar to when he found out about James.

"Yes, send them through!" he shouted through the door, wanting desperately to see the look on his wife's face when he revealed their good news. He let out a sigh as his first patient limped into the room. It was going to be a long morning.

. . .

After a cancellation that afternoon, Martin and Louisa decided to meet for lunch at the outdoor café across from the pharmacy. Buddy had followed him all the way down Roscarrock Hill but was sidetracked by another passerby and its yelping companion.

"Good riddance!" Martin muttered to himself as he watched Buddy scurry away towards another dog. Nearing the restaurant, he spotted Louisa at one of the tables under the marquee, her bright yellow jacket catching his eye.

"I'm glad we could do this," Louisa said as he took a seat across from her.

"Yes." Martin straightened his suit then picked up the menu, flipping through to the seafood section.

"Has the surgery been busy?"

Giving a slight nod to the waitress who set down a glass of water for him, Martin turned back to answer her question. "Not particularly."

"Oh." They remained silent until they placed their lunch orders. "You found out the results of my blood test then?"

Feeling his throat go dry, Martin took a drink of water. "Yes."

"Well?" She raised her eyebrows, imploring him to tell her more.

"Your blood test revealed the presence of human chorionic gonadotropin."

Louisa smiled. "Are you saying I'm pregnant, Martin?"

"Yes—"

Just as soon as he could get the word out, Louisa jumped up from her chair, almost knocking over his water glass in the process, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Feeling rather awkward in their embrace, Martin stood up from his chair as well, holding her close. He could feel the eyes of the other patrons trained in their direction, but he kept his focus on Louisa and the wonderful news they'd been granted.

When she finally pulled away, Martin could see her eyes were filled with tears. "You're happy about this, aren't you?" he asked, letting his arms drop back by his sides.

Louisa swiped a finger over her watering eyes. "Of course I am, Martin. I just . . . I'm just so happy." She shook her head. He smiled slightly as he sat back down in his chair. "And you?" Louisa inquired as she pushed her bangs off to the side. "Are you happy?"

Martin reached across the table and took hold of her hand. "As much as it may surprise you, I am. I've been waiting all morning to tell you and now that I have . . . I don't know if I can express how happy you've made me."

"Martin . . ." Louisa could feel her eyes beginning to water again, her husband's words causing her emotions to pour out uncontrollably.

Feeling unsettled, Martin let his gaze wander towards the pharmacy. Mrs. Tishell was staring at them through the glass windows of her shop, trying to hide her ogling by rearranging the window display. "I mean it," he said, turning back to Louisa. "I want this child as much as you do. And I will do everything I can to ensure that nothing happens to either of you."

Louisa could hardly believe that the man sitting across from her was her husband. The soft and loving side of him she knew was always there had emerged from the irritable and intimidating man he usually let on to be; and in public no less. As if that wasn't enough to convince her, he brought her hand to his lips, gently kissing the back of it. "Martin Ellingham . . ."

"What?"

"I've never seen you so affectionate in public."

He started to respond but the waitress had arrived with their meal. "It makes you happy," he said as he looked down to inspect his fish. "And I'm learning to feel more comfortable with it."

Louisa smiled. "I'm glad."

Martin frowned as he noticed her sprinkle extra salt over her potatoes. "You know that potatoes already contain enough sodium?"

Louisa looked up at him and sighed. "Yes. I believe you told me once before."

"Mm, but now that you're pregnant . . ."

Louisa set down her fork. "What are you trying to say, Martin?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just that you need to be aware of your diet, that's all."

"I see."

"You're nearing the end of your first trimester, so it's imperative that you maintain a healthy and balanced diet."

"Did you say the end of my first trimester?"

Martin furrowed his brow, but then realised what he let slip out. "Yes."

"How far along am I, Martin?"

"Um, about eight to ten weeks, I'd say."

"Two months? Already? The blood test can tell you that?"

Martin cleared his throat. They were getting into things he rather wished they didn't discuss over a meal. "No. But basic medical knowledge will tell you that high levels of hCG put a woman near the end of her first trimester, which is about eight or ten weeks." He resumed cutting his fish. "Which reminds me, we need to get you registered with an obstetrician."

"It won't be your friend Edith, will it?"

Martin glanced up from his plate, his wife's face hardening in contempt. "No. As far as I know she's back in London."

"Oh. You two still keep in contact?"

Martin creased his brow again. "Louisa, I have not heard from Edith since she left Portwenn two years ago, nor do I wish to ever hear from her." He dropped his gaze back down to his fish, mumbling as an afterthought, "And I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

"I was only curious."

"Just as I was curious about your friend Danny."

"Mar-tin!"

"What?"

Louisa shook her head, as if the motion could somehow erase the topic of their past relationships. "Never mind. I don't want to get into an argument about it."

"I see."

"Let's just try and enjoy what's left of our afternoon."

With a soft grunt, Martin finished what was left of his fish and rice, their conversation shifting back to Louisa's questions about her pregnancy. After paying for their meal, Martin offered to walk with Louisa back to the school.

"I can stop and pick up some produce on my way to the surgery," Martin suggested as he followed her inside the school to her office.

"Of course. Should I call Ruth and invite her? Or would you like to do the honours?"

"No, I'll do it." He grew silent as he stood in front of her desk. "Um, are you all right to collect James from nursery? The hills are rather steep and I thought—that is, if it's too much for you . . ."

Louisa smiled, touched by his concern for her. "It's a ten minute walk, Martin. I'm sure I can manage. Anyway, we've just begun. There will be plenty of opportunities for you to fuss over me, don't worry. Though I appreciate the offer." She reached over to straighten the knot of his tie, her fingers lingering on the stiff collar of his white shirt.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable by her close proximity, Martin raised a hand to scratch his brow. "I was thinking this weekend we should head to Truro and get you registered with an obstetrician."

"Right. I suppose that's fine."

"And I think it would be best to leave James here with Ruth for the time being."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. Louisa, who knows how long the appointment will last for. I'd rather he stays here where he can be continuously occupied."

"If that's what you think."

Martin furrowed his brow, not understanding his wife's sudden mood shifts. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked, now noticing her flushed complexion.

Louisa picked up a large envelope from her desk and started fanning herself with it. "I'm fine. It's just a little warm in here."

"I'll open a window." He moved behind her desk to crack open the window. "Louisa, I'd feel better if I picked James up from nursery today."

She shook her head vehemently. "No. I'm fine, Martin, I told you."

Martin still wasn't convinced as he watched her gulp down what was left in her water bottle. "Give me your wrist."

"What?"

"Your wrist. I want to check your pulse."

With a frustrated sigh, Louisa extended an arm. "I'm perfectly well, Martin, just a bit winded from the walk, is all."

He glanced up from his watch to look at her. "It's not that far of a walk." Placing the back of his other hand to her forehead, he noticed she felt a bit warm. "I want you to come back with me to the surgery."

"What? Why?"

"I just want to make sure you aren't running a fever."

"Martin, I have work to do. I can't just leave."

"So you'd rather stay here with a suspected fever? Possibly developing an infection, which could lead to a miscarriage . . ."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't ever say that word to me. You're not the only one who knows what can happen, Martin."

"Then why are you being so obstinate?"

She was silent for a moment before her breath hitched and Louisa covered her mouth with both hands, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Because I'm afraid. My body's changing and I'm afraid that something _will_ happen, and I just . . ."

Martin stepped forward as Louisa wrapped herself around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "You could just be hormonal," he suggested, letting one hand absently pass up and down her back. He heard a muffled laugh against the collar of his shirt.

"If you're trying to make me feel better I don't think it's working."

"Then why don't you come back to the surgery with me? Please, Louisa. I just want to make sure you haven't devloped a bacterial infection."

She turned her head so it came to rest against his shoulder, her hands moving up to his shoulder blades, remaining close to him. "But why do you say such things?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Miscarriage. You always mention the worst possible outcome."

"I don't know. I guess it's because that's what I know. It's a fact to me, but to you it means something different, and I'm sorry."

She reached up with one hand to play with the short hairs at the back of his neck. "Can we go home now?"

"I thought you had work to do?"

"That was before my doctor suspected I could have a fever."

"Mmm. I'll have Penhale drive you to the surgery while I collect James. I don't want you exerting yourself."

"Martin?"

"Hmm?"

"What would I do without you?"

He let out a quiet sigh, contemplating an appropriate answer. "I've asked myself the same thing. I just hope I never have to find out." He felt her squeeze him tighter, and he could picture her smiling, an image he always found comforting, no matter what.

After collecting James from nursery school, making sure Janice had him occupied, Martin took Louisa's temperature and vitals. It was a degree warmer than normal, which didn't worry him too much, but her blood pressure was a little elevated.

"You need to start slowing down, Louisa," he told her, jotting down notes in her file.

"I've just been so busy, Martin, you know that."

"Yes, but you're pregnant. You'll be entering your second trimester soon and the less stress you have, the more comfortable you and the baby will be."

Louisa tilted her head to side, not quite agreeing with her husband. "Do you actually know what it's like carrying around a human being for nine months? Because I can tell you it's not comfortable at all."

Martin sighed. "No I don't know what it's like. But, Louisa, this is your second pregnancy and given your age it's better that you take things easy. I'm only looking out for your health—and the baby of course."

Reaching across his desk, Louisa covered his hand with her own. "I know you are." She let out a tired sigh. "But I suppose you're right. I have been more tired recently . . ." She stood up from her chair, smoothing out the pleat in her skirt. "I'll start planning for tonight while you call Ruth." Giving his hand a gentle pat and quickly rounding the edge of his desk, Louisa kissed his cheek, then left the room.

Martin watched her leave, momentarily distracted by her kiss. Angling his head back down to his desk, he finished his writing then reached for his phone to call his aunt.

. . .

Later that evening, as dinner was coming to a close, Martin and Louisa exchanged sideways glances, silently wondering who was to make the announcement. With an encouraging nod from Louisa, Martin cleared his throat. "I, um . . ." He cleared his throat once more. "I mean, we have an announcement to make."

Ruth set down her wineglass, suddenly interested by what her nephew had to say.

Underneath the table, Martin felt Louisa take hold of his hand. He took in a deep breath, comforted by his wife's fingers curling around his. "Um, Louisa and I are expecting our second child—late this fall." He quickly reached for his water glass, feeling uncomfortable by his awkward announcement.

Louisa continued to smile and Ruth's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, well that is good news. And rather quick, I'd say." She gave her nephew a wry smile, remembering the talk they had a week ago.

Martin frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Martin . . ."

"Just that I wasn't expecting an announcement so soon. But congratulations—to both of you."

"Thank you, Ruth. We're very excited, aren't we, Martin?" Louisa turned to face her husband, giving him a wide smile.

Tightening his grip on her hand underneath the table, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Yes."

"Good," Ruth said, placing her cloth napkin down next to her empty plate. "I'm sure James Henry will enjoy being an older brother."

Louisa turned back to Ruth, smiling. "Yes. I've tried to explain it to him, but Martin keeps telling me he hasn't developed the cognitive ability to understand it just yet." She sent a teasing glance towards her husband, who merely grunted and finished off what was left on his plate.

"I'm curious to know if you'll have enough space once the baby arrives," Ruth replied, her expression serious as she centered her gaze on Louisa.

She looked over at Martin briefly. "Um, well we haven't thought about it that much. Since both children will still be young I suppose they could share a room until James starts school. Martin?"

He had begun clearing dishes from the dinner table. "Hmm? Yes, I suppose so."

"It's just something to think about, dear," Ruth assured Louisa, placing a hand on her forearm.

Louisa nodded. "Yes. Coffee anyone? Or tea?"

"No. No coffee," Martin stated, spinning around from the sink to face Louisa.

"Not for me, for Ruth." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Martin."

"What? I'm just trying to help you manage your diet. You need to limit your caffeine consumption."

"He's been like this all day," Louisa whispered to Ruth. "I can't imagine what he'll be like in five months' time."

"Let him spoil you." Ruth grinned. "Who knows when he'll be this attentive again."

"I suppose you're right. I just hope he doesn't drive me Bodmin in the process."

After bidding Ruth goodnight, Louisa opted for an early night, heading up to bed once the kitchen was cleaned up. She stepped into James's room for a goodnight kiss before slipping across the hall. She was almost asleep when Martin entered the room, peeling off his jacket and loosening his tie.

"I'm so exhausted," Louisa yawned, rolling onto her side to face him.

"Go back to sleep."

"Not until you're right here next to me." She patted his side of the bed.

"I see." He moved into the bathroom with his pajamas, keeping the door ajar so they could still talk.

"Do you think Ruth is right?"

"About what?"

"The house. Do we have enough space for two young children?"

"I don't know. Could I brush my teeth first before we discuss this?"

Louisa started playing with the end of the bed sheets while Martin brushed his teeth. When the sink was turned off he stepped out of the bathroom, his shirt and trousers neatly folded in his arms.

"Should we consider moving into a bigger place?" Louisa asked once he settled down next to her in bed.

"I'm not sure."

"It wouldn't have to be for a few more years, Martin."

"Yes, I know."

Despite her exhaustion, Louisa's eyes lit up. "Or maybe we could add on to the second level? Wouldn't that be fun? We could design it however we want."

Martin scrunched his nose at the idea. "I have a busy medical practice, Louisa. I can't work while the house is being renovated."

"It was just an idea. I don't hear you offering any suggestions."

He closed his eyes. "I thought we agreed they could share the same room for a few years?"

"Yes, but—oh, never mind. It'll just keep me up all night."

"Good."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him then rolled onto her back, the room growing quiet. After a while, Louisa whispered, "Martin?"

"What?" he mumbled.

"I can't sleep."

"I thought you said you were tired?"

"I am—or was. Can you just . . . Can you hold me for a while?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. Letting out a breath from his nose, he extended his right arm and she rolled over to rest her head against his shoulder. "Is that better?"

"Yes, much better." She nuzzled her nose in the crook of his neck. "Did you really mean what you said at the restaurant? Are you happy?"

"Yes. Louisa . . ." He paused, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words. "Of course I meant it. You shouldn't have to question how I feel about you."

"I know you love me, Martin. I just . . . It still comes as a surprise to me when you say such things."

He shifted onto his side so they were face to face. "I'm still learning how to be a good husband. It doesn't come naturally to me like it does for you."

Louisa reached over to trace her fingers down his jaw. "I think you're doing just fine."

"Do you really feel alright?" He moved his hand up to feel her forehead.

"Yes, just exhausted."

Martin let his hand fall back down to her arm, absently skimming around to rest on her abdomen. "The baby has a heartbeat now."

"Really?"

"Mm."

"I wish I could hear it." She looked down at where his hand rested. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I'm not sure." He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "But I hope it's a girl."

"Oh, Martin. Do you really?"

"Yes. I want her to look just like you." He lifted the hand that was resting on her stomach to cup her chin, his thumb brushing over her smooth skin. "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

Louisa let out a soft cry. "I think you've mentioned it a few times."

A slight grin formed and he leaned forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that quickly turned passionate. As they drew apart, Martin's forehead resting against hers, Louisa let her fingers drift to the open collar of his pajama shirt. "You can spoil me all you want, Martin."

"Good. I was planning on it."

Closing her eyes, Louisa tucked herself against him. She listened to his soft breathing, his chest slowly rising and falling against hers. The warmth they created together eventually putting her to sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

**I'm terribly sorry for another long wait everyone. I've had a hectic and busy end to my semester. But now that I have my final exams finished and out of the way I'm happy to get back into some fanfic writing for the summer—yay! I know I shout out to you guys a lot for leaving reviews and I greatly appreciate every one of them, but it makes writing more fun to know that your readers enjoy what you're giving them, so thank you everybody! Even to those of you who don't leave a review it's still worthwhile to see how many views a chapter can get and that I'm not wasting my time on a story that's not being read. Anyway, back to our wonderful little world of Doc Martin (you can probably tell I have my energy back now) and another chapter, which I hope all of you enjoy!**

Chapter Forty

On Saturday Louisa woke to a terrible bout of morning sickness. Sitting on the floor with her legs curled under her, she let her head drop down to her forearms, grateful for the temporary reprieve.

"Louisa?"

She lifted her head as Martin lightly knocked on the closed bathroom door. "What?"

"How are you doing?"

"How do you think?" she snapped back, just as another wave of nausea swept over her.

On the other side of the bathroom door, Martin grimaced as he listened to his wife expel what little remained in her stomach. "Can I come in?"

"No! I don't want you to see me like this!"

"Please, Louisa? At least let me sit with you?"

Angrily pushing her hair away from her face, she finally gave up at getting him to leave her alone. "Fine."

Slowly opening the door, Martin cautiously slipped into the bathroom. Louisa was leaning over the toilet, her shoulders shaking. "Louisa?" he quietly spoke. She lifted her head to face him. Seeing her tear-stained cheeks, Martin immediately kneeled down next to her. "I'm sorry about all this."

"It's not your fault," she said between gasping breaths. "It's never been this bad—not even when I was pregnant with James." Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "Do you think something could be wrong?"

Placing a hand on her upper back, Martin shifted into a sitting position, crossing his legs. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Louisa. We'll know more when we get to Truro."

Leaning over, Louisa held onto him, clutching the light material of his pajama shirt. "It's never lasted this long either."

Wrapping both arms around her, Martin tucked her head underneath his chin. "Every pregnancy is different."

Nodding, she continued to cry softly. "I just want to know everything's alright." She let out a wet sniffle. "I just feel like something's . . . off."

He curled his fingers around her upper arm and shoulder, pulling her closer. "Would you like me to get you something to eat?"

Reaching up to wipe away her tears, Louisa shook her head. "I'm not hungry, but thank you."

"I still think you should eat something."

A weak smile formed and she pulled away to look at him. "I know." She sighed. "Alright. Something light, okay?"

"Of course." His features softened as he gazed back at her. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Martin let his fingers glide down her cheek.

Louisa closed her eyes at his gentle touch. Since receiving the news that they were expecting, Louisa was continually surprised by how well he put up with her ever-changing moods. Having him to lean on was a dream come true compared to the first time. "Thank you," she whispered, "especially for taking care of me."

Martin remained silent for a moment just gazing into her eyes. "You're my wife."

Her smiled widened. The fact that he didn't refer to her as a patient made it even more special. Leaning back into him, their quiet moment was interrupted by the pattering of little feet. "Martin, James!" Louisa shrieked, her sudden move to get up initiating another wave of nausea. She quickly turned back to the toilet.

Martin struggled to get to his feet, his knees stiff from sitting cross-legged on the floor. Before he could make it out the door, James rushed straight into him, wrapping his little arms around his legs.

"Da-ee!" the toddler cried out, looking up and happily bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Bending over, Martin pulled James up into his arms. "What are you doing out of bed, James?"

James was looking over Martin's shoulder at Louisa. He pointed a finger at her. "Mum-ee!"

"Mummy isn't feeling well, James," Martin explained as he left the bathroom to give Louisa some privacy. "But how about we get dressed and fix her breakfast, hmm?"

. . .

While they waited for the obstetrician, Martin began pacing the room while Louisa sat on the exam table, nervously twisting the button of her red cardigan. Though he was perfectly content to wait outside, Louisa insisted that he remain with her for support.

After twenty minutes, the door of the room finally opened, revealing a young woman who looked as if she were still in medical school. Louisa caught the skeptical look from her husband and reached out to put a hand on his arm, hoping he wouldn't say anything that would embarrass them both.

"I'm terribly sorry for the delay Mr. and Mrs. Ellingham," the obstetrician began to explain as she started washing her hands at the sink.

"It's Doctor Ellingham," Martin corrected her. "And you've kept us waiting for twenty minutes!"

"Martin, please—" Louisa tried to interject.

"Again, I'm terribly sorry _Doctor_ Ellingham, but I was held up with another patient. I'm sure you can understand?"

Tightening his jaw, Martin looked away at the women's health posters lining the walls of the exam room.

"He's just nervous," Louisa said. "We both are, actually."

Sitting down on a stool, the obstetrician slipped on a pair of exam gloves. "It's perfectly understandable, Mrs. Ellingham."

"It's Louisa."

The doctor smiled. "Of course. And I'm Dr. Collins. It's a pleasure to meet you both." She briefly glanced over at Martin, who was stoically standing off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'll just need you to remove everything from the waist down."

Louisa nodded and reached down for the button of her jeans and Martin turned his head away. He made a move to leave the room but Louisa stopped him. "Martin, where are you going?"

He turned around to face her. "I just want to give you some privacy."

"Don't be ridiculous. You promised me you'd stay."

"Right." He cleared his throat, moving to stand behind her. "I'll just be right here . . . behind you."

Rolling her eyes, Louisa proceeded with removing the clothing below her waist.

"Now, just let me know if you feel any discomfort at all," Dr. Collins said as she began the examination and ultrasound.

Louisa nodded as she laid back on the exam table, the disposable paper crinkling underneath her. She glanced over at Martin, who was watching the obstetrician with a narrowed and critical gaze. Extending her hand, he looked down at it, and after a moment, he curled his fingers around hers.

"So it looks like you're nine weeks along," the obstetrician said as she pointed at a small shape on the screen of the ultrasound machine. "Does that sound about right?"

Louisa glanced up at Martin, who gave her a slight nod. "Yes, I-I think so."

"It's still a bit early to tell the gender, but I hear a nice, strong heartbeat."

A smile formed as Louisa's eyes lit up, hearing the rapid but distinct _lub-dub_ of their baby's heartbeat. Once again, she looked up at Martin, whose features had relaxed and softened considerably. "Martin," she breathed out.

In response, he tightened his grip on her hand as he examined the image on the screen.

"I put your due date at the end of October, early November at the latest." Dr. Collins looked down at Louisa's medical history. "And it looks like this is your second pregnancy in two years."

Louisa tilted her head to the side as the obstetrician removed the ultrasound probe. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Oh, no, of course not. It's just that with multiple pregnancies close together I like to keep a closer eye on both mother and baby."

"Does that mean something's wrong? Martin . . ."

"Don't worry, Louisa," Dr. Collins tried to assure her. "I see nothing out of the ordinary. You have a perfectly healthy and developing fetus."

Louisa wasn't entirely convinced. "Are you sure?"

The obstetrician nodded. "You're in very good health. Now I don't mean to be offensive, but I'm sure you're aware of the increased risks of pregnancy during advanced maternal age?"

Louisa tightened her jaw, but kept a polite smile trained on the doctor. "Yes, we've, um—I mean Martin and I have discussed it . . . briefly."

Dr. Collins gave the couple a wide grin. "Very good. Saves me from having to make the big speech." She chuckled, which Martin didn't appreciate. "As I was saying, I would recommend a chorionic villus sampling or an amniocentesis to rule out any genetic disorders. They're both straight forward procedures, but the decision is entirely up to you."

Louisa turned her head to look up at her husband. "Martin? What do you think?" She glanced back at the obstetrician. "An amniocentesis is the one where they stick the giant needle in your abdomen, right?" Dr. Collins nodded and Louisa swallowed hard. "I didn't have one done with my first pregnancy . . ."

"Don't feel pressured, Louisa," Dr. Collins said as she placed a comforting hand on her forearm. "You have plenty of time to think it over."

"Martin?" Again, Louisa turned to look at him.

Seeming to snap out of his quiet trance, Martin focused his attention on his wife. "It's your decision, Louisa. I know you hate needles and I don't want to force you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"Thank you," she replied softly. "I'll think about it."

"Wonderful." The obstetrician returned to her cheerful mood. "If you do decide to proceed with a test just make an appointment to come back and we'll have you in and out in a few hours." She pulled out a pen from the front pocket of her lab coat and clicked it open. "Now I just have a few more questions and then we'll send you on your way."

After their appointment, Martin and Louisa stopped at a sandwich shop near the hospital for lunch.

"How does he look?" Louisa asked before biting hungrily into the roast beef sandwich she ordered.

Looking closely at the sonogram photo they were given, Martin glanced up at her. "It could be a _she,_ Louisa."

With her mouth still full, she answered him, "I know. So what do you think?"

Martin furrowed his brow. "The baby looks fine." He pushed the photograph across the table to her.

" _Fine?_ That's all you can say?"

"The baby's only a few centimeteres long." Letting out a sigh, he pulled the photo back and pointed at it. "Here's the head and the legs . . . and there's an arm . . . I think. He or she is developing nicely, Louisa. There's nothing to worry about."

Tilting her head to see what he was pointing at, Louisa's eyes grew misty as her hormones were starting to take over. "You can say it all you want, Martin, but I'll always worry. I'm a mother—I can't help it."

"I see." He turned his attention to the turkey sandwich on his plate.

After taking a drink from her water glass, Louisa plucked a few of the crisps he refused to eat from his plate. "I can't believe our anniversary is next month," she said, her gaze locked on the salty snack she kept consuming.

"What?"

Louisa looked up at him. "Our wedding anniversary. It's next month." Her smile began to falter. "You forgot, didn't you?"

His eyes widened. "No! Of course I didn't forget! I just haven't thought about it recently. The um, pregnancy . . ." He cleared his throat. "Would you like another?" He held out a crisp.

Louisa eagerly took it but narrowed her eyes at him. "Just because I'm pregnant and hormonal doesn't mean you can bribe me with food, Martin Ellingham." She dropped the crisp he'd given her on her plate and covered her face with her hands.

"Louisa? Don't cry." Reaching into his suit, he pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her.

She dropped her hands from her face and took the square of blue cloth, wiping the corner of her eyes. She blew her nose loudly and handed it back to him. With a curled lip, Martin cautiously took hold of a clean corner and wrapped it in a paper napkin before depositing it back in his pocket. "I don't mean to cry," Louisa began to explain, "it's probably the hormones, but you didn't even remember our two-week anniversary. You didn't seem to care."

Reaching across the table, Martin covered her hand with his. "I do care, Louisa. We were married on the fifteenth of April. You were late to the church because you had trouble with your hair."

Through eyes that continued to water, Louisa smiled weakly. "And you ignored the vicar during our vows."

"Mm. The man's probably still an alcoholic."

She laughed lightly but remained serious. "You do remember."

"Yes."

"You've never said anything."

Martin shook his head. "No. I've been more concerned about you and your pregnancy."

"I know, and I love that you're so involved . . ."

"Just because I didn't say anything, it doesn't mean that I love you any less than I do now. I never thought anniversaries were important. But I've changed since then, because _you_ are important to me, Louisa. And if you want some lavish celebration then I'll give you a lavish celebration."

Drawing in deep breaths, Louisa tried to compose herself through the haze of hormones she was battling. "It doesn't need to be lavish," she said with a small laugh.

"But you're saying you want a celebration, is that it?"

"You're going to make me spell it out for you, aren't you?"

"It's really the only way I can understand you."

She laughed again. "Oh, Martin. It would be nice if we did do something, yes."

"Then we will."

Louisa smiled. "Thank you." She watched him, his gaze lingering down at the table while he ate. They were finally finding their way to happiness. Another addition to the family and an anniversary to celebrate. It certainly has been quite the year, Louisa thought as she reached into her purse to check her phone. But there was so much to look forward to as well.

. . .

When they arrived home, Ruth was engaged in some children's game with James. They were in the living room, Ruth on the sofa and James on the cushion next to her, a collection of toy blocks spread between them.

"How did it go?" Ruth asked as Martin and Louisa came through the kitchen door.

"It went well," Louisa answered, handing a large takeaway box to Martin. "The baby's developing nicely and should arrive by the end of October."

"That's good to hear."

"Did James give you any trouble?" Louisa asked as she moved behind the sofa, running a hand through her son's light hair.

"We had a bit of a tough time after the two of you left, but we settled in quite well with the distraction of his toys."

"Oh, James, did you miss us?" Louisa hoisted the toddler up into her arms for a hug, but he let out a whimper at being separated from his blocks. "Apparently you're over that now." She chuckled and set him back down.

"Well now that you're back I think I'll be heading home," Ruth said as she slowly stood up from the sofa to retrieve her handbag and laptop case.

"Are you sure, Ruth? You could always stay for dinner."

Ruth shook her head. "It's kind of you to offer, dear, but I don't like to impose. I have a few papers I'd like to review before tomorrow."

"If you're sure." Louisa walked with her to the kitchen door. "You know you're always welcome to stop by. James enjoys his time with you."

"It's always a pleasure to watch him." Ruth turned to look at her nephew. "Goodbye, Martin."

Martin cleared his throat. "Mm, yes."

With a smirk, Ruth uttered a quiet goodbye to Louisa before leaving.

"Well . . . it's been quite a day," Louisa said as she turned to face her quiet husband.

"Yes."

"Mum-ee!" James squealed as he climbed down from the sofa and ran towards her.

"Ugh! You're getting too heavy, James." Louisa picked him up and he settled comfortably into her arms.

"If he's too heavy you shouldn't be lifting him, Louisa," Martin said as he stepped down into the living room. "Especially in your condition."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm perfectly fine, Martin. I can manage."

"I see." James reached an arm out to him and Martin took hold of his hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

Louisa's frown deepened as she adjusted a squirming James in her arms. "I think you need a nap, young man," she said, turning to address their son. James smiled in response, leaning forward to rest his head against his mother's cheek but refusing to let go of Martin's hand. "C'mon, James. We'll see Daddy in a little bit." She managed to pry James's hand away from his father's and turned to head for the stairs when the doorbell rang. "Martin could you get that?"

With a grunt, Martin followed Louisa to the front entryway. Letting out a sigh he opened the door, thinking it was one of the villagers with a medical emergency.

"Is Louisa here?" a woman asked, her cheery smile causing Martin to frown in confusion.

"Yes." Having heard, Louisa stepped out behind her husband, James still settled on her hip.

"This came for you earlier today," the woman said as she pulled a white envelope from her handbag. "It was addressed to your old flat. You know, the one across the harbor?" She jabbed a thumb behind her in the general direction of the cottage she lived in. Louisa nodded. "I guess whoever sent it wasn't aware of your current address—or that you're married."

Louisa took the outstretched letter, taking note of her maiden name addressed on the front. She shook her head. "Um, thank you."

"Of course." The woman gave the couple one last smile before turning from the doorway.

Martin furrowed his brow as he peered over his wife's shoulder. "Do you know who sent it?"

Louisa shook her head again. "No. There's no return address. But the postmark's from Yorkshire." She shrugged while shifting James to her other hip.

"Yorkshire?"

"I don't know, Martin. I'll just have to open it and find out, won't I?"

"Would you like me to take James upstairs instead?"

Still staring at the mysterious envelope, Louisa nodded absently. She transferred James to his father then headed for the kitchen. Sitting down at the table, Louisa fingered the envelope open and pulled out a folded letter.

After finally putting James down for his afternoon nap, Martin ambled back downstairs. He found Louisa sat at the kitchen table, her back facing him. "He's finally asleep," he said, deciding that a cup of tea was in order. As he started filling the kettle, he turned to face her and his movements stalled. "Louisa?"

Seeming to come out of her trance, Louisa centered her gaze with Martin as tears rolled down her cheeks. She dropped the letter she'd been holding. "It's my father."

 **A/N: I know I left this on a bit of a cliffhanger, but I gotta keep it interesting, right? Just a quick side note regarding M &L's wedding anniversary. I'm taking a guess and putting it in April since it always seems to be spring/summer weather in Portwenn. I was kind of disappointed that they didn't have an episode surrounding the event in series 8, considering it would have been important to Louisa. I mean it's been two series since the wedding and James is nearly 2, so it has to be close to a year. Maybe in series 9 the writers will touch on it, at least I hope so. Anyway, feel free to comment/review because I love to know what you guys think!**


	41. Chapter 41

**It's been a while again I know. The warm and beautiful weather here in the Upper Midwest has kept me away from the computer these past few weeks, though for some reason I seem to write better very late at night (haha!). This one's quite long as the ending took on a life of its own. I have the next chapter planned out and I'm super excited to get started on it, which I hope to get posted as soon as possible. Enjoy everyone and thank you for remaining patient with my infrequent updates!**

Chapter Forty-one

After finally putting James down for his afternoon nap, Martin ambled back downstairs. He found Louisa sat at the kitchen table, her back facing him. "He's finally asleep," he said, deciding that a cup of tea was in order. As he started filling the kettle, he turned to face her and his movements stalled. "Louisa?"

Seeming to come out of her trance, Louisa centered her gaze with Martin as tears rolled down her cheeks. She dropped the letter she'd been holding. "It's my father."

"Your father?"

Nodding, she pulled in a sharp breath. "He-He's dying."

Martin furrowed his brow. "What do you mean he's dying? I thought he was in prison?"

Louisa shook her head. "I thought he was too. But he's been out for a year it seems." She pulled the letter back and studied it for a moment. "He says he's dying—that it's pancreatic cancer."

Unsure of what to do, Martin abandoned the tea and sat down across from her at the table. "Right. And that-that was the diagnosis he was given?"

Roughly swiping at her watery eyes, Louisa pushed the letter over to him. "Here. You read it." Martin eyed her warily as he pulled over the letter and began to read. "Well?" she asked once he finished.

He didn't answer at first, choosing to finish preparing the tea he'd started earlier. "There's not much that can be done."

"But there is treatment, isn't there?"

"Yes—"

"I just don't understand why he'd wait this long to tell me!" Standing up quickly, Louisa began pacing around the kitchen. "It's always been like this with him—ever since I was a little girl. He thinks he's doing the right thing—that he's just trying to protect me . . ."

"Louisa?" She didn't seem to hear him as she kept mumbling to herself. "Louisa!" he tried again, this time raising his voice to get her attention. She stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry." He took the few remaining paces between them and awkwardly wrapped her in his arms.

"Oh, Martin," she cried out before burying her face in the crook of his neck.

He held her tightly for some time, letting her cry into his shoulder. "Um, would you like some tea?" he asked, averting his gaze to the kettle that was still sitting next to the sink.

"Yes." Louisa pulled away from him and turned to fetch a box of tissues before sitting down on the sofa in the living room. "Thank you, Martin," she said once he handed her a mug of tea.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit cold."

"It's fine, Martin. I don't mind." She took a drink from her cup then set it down on the table in front of her.

She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and Martin felt his chest tighten. He never knew Louisa's father long enough to feel any sort of sympathy for the man, but his wife's unhappiness had a tendency to pull at emotions he usually kept buried deep. "Is there, um, anything else I can get you?"

Louisa wiped at her nose with a tissue. "I'd like it if you sat with me for a while." She patted the cushion next to her.

"Mm, of course." Sitting down, Martin pulled his right arm up over her shoulders as Louisa leaned into him. "Um, your father didn't mention if he was receiving any treatment in his letter."

"Of course he didn't," she scoffed. "He never asks for help—even when we had to scrounge for every penny we could find he insisted that he could sort it all out himself. And we both know how well that went."

"Mm, the gambling."

"Yes." Louisa put a hand up to her face. "God, Martin, what am I going to do?"

"Your father's gambling debts are his own you shouldn't be responsible—"

She rolled her eyes. "Not about the gambling, Martin, his illness. What'll I do when the time comes? I mean there's no cure, is there?"

He turned slightly and their eyes met. "No there isn't. But there's a chance the tumour could be removed if it hasn't metastasized already."

"How big of a chance?"

Her voice had taken on a hopeful tone and Martin was wary to put an end to it. "Louisa, it's a very small chance. More than likely the cancer has already spread; that's usually when a diagnosis is determined."

"I see."

She looked away from him, so Martin tightened his grip on her shoulders, wishing there was something more that he could do for her. "I'm very sorry about all this, Louisa. If there's anything I can do . . ."

Louisa settled back into the cushion of the sofa. "I know." She reached for the hand that was on her shoulder and laced their fingers together. "I just wish I could see him—to spend some time with him before he . . ."

She couldn't say what they both knew was inevitable. It was only a matter of time now before her father's illness progressed far enough as to be unbearable. "Then why don't you visit him?" Martin asked, feeling like it was the most logical solution.

"If only I knew where he was," she sighed, reaching over for her mug of tea and taking a sip of the now tepid beverage. "He didn't mention where he was living."

"Yorkshire narrows it down a bit."

"Even so, that's several towns and villages, Martin. It's not as if either one of us has the detective skills to track him down." Her eyes suddenly lit up as an idea formed. "Maybe Penhale can help?" she suggested, turning to face Martin with an optimistic expression. "What with my father's criminal record Joe should be able to find him, don't you think?"

Martin's brow creased even further with the curl of his lip. "I wouldn't put too much faith in Penhale, Louisa. The man barely functions as a proper policeman as it is. He even managed to shoot himself in the foot while alone on the moor." He looked away from her admonishing glare, thinking back to the day he treated the constable's spore-infected gunshot wound.

"He could still be useful, Mar-tin."

"Mm. Though I think you're better off contacting the police in Yorkshire. They have more experienced—"

Louisa set down her mug of tea with a purposeful _thud_ , effectively quieting her husband. "We can make a decision about that later, Martin. Right now I'd just like to think about something positive."

"I see."

They remained quiet for several minutes, listening as a string of vehicles rumbled their way up the hill outside the cottage. "Martin?" Louisa spoke once the mechanical whir of automotive engines faded.

"Hmm?" He'd been staring down at an interesting spot on the carpet.

"How did you feel when your mother told you your father had passed away?"

Martin whirled his head around to face her, caught off guard by the question she asked him. Then his face twisted into a grimace. "Oh, Lousia, we don't have to rehash all of that, do we?"

"I want to know, Martin. You weren't exactly forthcoming about it the first time I asked you."

He pulled his arm out from behind her shoulders and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "That's because I had nothing to say on the matter—and I still don't."

"But you must have felt something. I mean he was your father."

Martin stood up abruptly, knocking his knee on the edge of the coffee table. "Ow! Bloody hell!" He limped over to the window and stared out at the harbour, waiting for the throbbing in his knee to fade.

"Why can't you talk about it, Martin?"

"Because!" he snapped as his head flicked to the side. Realising he'd shouted at her, Martin let out a long exhale. "I thought you wanted to talk about something positive?"

Feeling wary about her husband's mood, Louisa smoothed her hands over her legs then stood up. "I guess I'll just leave you be, then," she said, moving around the sofa to head for the stairs. "I think I'll take James and go for a walk . . . give you some space."

Martin turned around once she'd started up the stairs. "Louisa, I didn't mean . . ." he trailed off but she was already out of earshot. "Bloody hell," he muttered as the ache from his knee seemed to travel up to his forehead. He made a move for the stairs to follow her, but thought better of it. He suspected that Louisa needed some time to herself to digest the news about her father.

After glancing back at the shimmering water in the harbour, Martin headed to the waiting room of the surgery. He picked up one of his receptionist's frilly pens and a pad of pink sticky notes. Finishing the note he scribbled out for Louisa, he pulled away the square piece of paper and stuck it on the front door so she'd be able to see it, then quietly slipped outside.

"Are you up for a walk, James?" Louisa asked as she helped him down the stairs one by one.

"Walk, Mum-ee!" the toddler squealed as a grin spread out across his face.

"The fresh air will do us both some good." As they reached the bottom step, Louisa noticed the piece of pink paper stuck to the front door. She moved closer and recognised her husband's slanted handwriting: _Went to sit up on the cliffs. Join me when you finish your walk w/James._ Smiling slightly, she plucked the note from the door and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans.

"Do you want to walk the whole way or should we bring your pushchair?" she addressed her son.

The toddler bounced on his feet, repeating his earlier phrase, "Walk, Mum-ee!"

"Alright then. Off we go, young man." She opened the door and took hold of James's hand, leading him across the front terrace and to the right down the hill.

. . .

Martin toyed with a blade of grass as he looked out at the ocean. The crash of the surf against the rocky outcropping of the cliffs created a calming effect. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he thought about his father. _Oh, why did she have to bring it up?_ he thought to himself as he flicked away the blade of grass he'd been twisting. The man was dead. What more was there to talk about?

He looked down at his watch, wondering how much longer Louisa and James would be. He was sure she would have seen his note, unless she used the back door. Letting out a quiet sigh, he decided he'd give her another ten minutes before making his way back home.

The coastal path that was often used by tourists and hikers ran behind him and followed the scenic coastline for miles in either direction. Turning his head, Martin watched as a young couple walked along with their two children, the youngest an infant, who was situated against its mother's chest in one of those carriers that was strapped around the torso. The eldest was a boy Martin figured to be about six. He ran ahead as his father threw a red frisbee disc in an arc. The boy caught the disc and happily began jumping up and down, proud of his accomplishment. He let out a laugh as the father scooped him up over his shoulder in a playful manner.

Martin watched the tender scene with a heavy heart, wondering if that was how he and Louisa would grow to be in future. He wanted to be the man his son looked up to for guidance—the man who would be proud of his son. No matter how much he longed for it as a child—even later as an adult—Martin was never awarded his father's approval. _Louisa was wrong,_ he thought as his eye caught a fishing boat out at sea. _I feel nothing for the man._

As Martin tracked the fishing boat, slowly chugging its way up the coastline, he was startled by a shriek and the force of his son running headlong into his shoulder. "Careful!"

"Da-ee!" James squealed as his father curled him into his side.

"Hello, James. Did you enjoy your walk?"

"Walk, Mum-ee!" The toddler turned and extended an arm in Louisa's direction, who was leisurely making her way towards them.

"Yes. You and Mummy went for a walk." He pulled the squirming child into his lap. "Are you alright?" he asked as he noticed his wife's heavy breathing and flushed complexion.

"I'm fine, Martin. It's just a steep hill, is all."

Martin creased his brow but said nothing more on the subject. He let James play with the grass as Louisa sat down next to them, folding her legs underneath her. "It's so beautiful out today," she said as she gazed out at the sparkling ocean.

"Mm. Which is strange for this time of year."

She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye, still unsure of his intentions for bringing them up here. "I can see why you enjoy coming up here so often; it's so calm and peaceful."

"Yes."

He grew quiet, so Louisa covered the hand he leaned back on with her own. "Did I say the wrong thing back at home? When you became angry?"

Martin let out a hiss of air from his nose. "This is the only place where I can talk about him."

"Your father, you mean?"

"Mm."

Louisa bit down on her lower lip. "I take it you weren't as close with your father either?"

"No."

"I'm so sorry, Martin."

He felt her thumb rubbing gentle patterns over the back of his hand, letting him know that she was there. "When you asked me earlier about how I felt when my father died . . . I didn't mean to get so upset with you."

"It's alright, Martin."

He turned to look at her. "I want to be honest with you, and I should have told you the first time you asked me, but . . ." He let out a sigh before continuing, "I feel nothing for him—at least not anymore. I've tried my entire life to earn my father's approval—academics, chess, even following in his footsteps as a surgeon. I never mattered to him—to either of them, actually."

Louisa's features softened. "Martin, don't say that. You can't possibly think your mother and father didn't love you."

"My mere existence ruined their lives—their marriage specifically."

"I'm sorry, Martin."

"Please don't, Louisa—"

"No. I mean had I known this when your mother showed up last year I wouldn't have let her into our home. Now I understand why you were so distant with me then. Oh, Martin, why didn't you talk to me? We could have been spared all the struggling between us."

Martin shook his head. "I don't know."

Louisa leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting her head rest against his. "Now you have James and I."

"Mm, and Ruth."

"Yes, and Ruth. We're all here for you, Martin, don't forget that."

Martin swallowed hard as he looked down at James, who was still sitting patiently in his lap. "I know, but sometimes I do. And that's when things start to get overwhelming."

"You don't think the new baby will be too overwhelming, do you?" she asked as her voice turned worried.

He turned to look at her. "No. It's just . . . I don't like to talk about my past. And when you bring it up I feel as though—I just have to get away."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked about your father had I known. I was worried about my own father and I thought that if you talked about yours it would help—both of us, that is." She chuckled to try and lighten the mood. "You know, after all this time together there's still so many things I don't know about you, Martin."

"Mm. You know I don't really talk."

"I know, Martin. But you're gradually opening up to me and that's . . ." She smiled at him. "That's a very good thing."

A slight grin appeared at the corner of his mouth and Martin reached over to touch her cheek, letting his fingers smooth a few strands of her hair back into place.

"You're thinking about something." He had that thoughtful look on his face that always made Louisa wonder what went through that intelligent mind of his.

Martin shook his head. "Just how very beautiful you are."

"Martin . . ." Louisa breathed out. She leaned closer to kiss him, but the shrill ringing of his mobile phone ruined the moment. She let out a quiet sigh as he muttered an apology.

Martin fished his phone out from the inside pocket of his suit, seeing his aunt's name flash across the digital screen. "Ruth?" There was a long pause as he listened to his aunt. "Keep him on his side. I'll be there as soon as I can." He ended the call and stuffed the device back in his pocket.

"What's happened?" Louisa asked as she and Martin stood up.

"A patient. I have to go." He handed James off to his mother. "Louisa, I . . ."

"It's okay, Martin. We'll finish what we started, I promise." She gave him a coy smile and a gentle nudge. "Now go. Your patient needs you."

"Right." He gave his wife and son one last lingering look then turned and started off at a run towards the surgery for his medical bag.

Ten minutes later Martin ducked out of the Lexus and quickly rounded the vehicle for his medical bag and the oxygen tank he brought along. Jogging down the narrow walkway to Mr. Hammond's cottage, a dark, short-haired cat sprung out in front of Martin. "Out of my way!" he shouted at the animal. In response, the feline scurried away from the doctor in search of its next meal.

"Ruth!" Martin hollered as he knocked on the door of the cottage.

"Martin," his aunt answered as she opened the door wide for her nephew.

"Where is he?"

"In the sitting room."

She led the way and Martin quickly tried to assess what was wrong with his patient. Mr. Hammond was lying on his side on the floor, a generous pool of vomit next to his mouth as he wheezed and coughed with each breath.

Martin knelt down on one knee as he pulled his stethoscope out from his medical bag. Putting in the earpieces, he unbuttoned the older man's shirt and placed the diaphragm on his chest. Hearing a strong but rapid heartbeat, he moved around to the man's back to listen to his lungs. Whistling noises during expiration indicated the shallowness of the man's breathing.

"Mr. Hammond," Martin began as he angled his head so he was face to face with his patient, "I'm going to move you to a sitting position then give you some oxygen." The older man responded with a weak nod.

"He hasn't got a respiratory infection, does he, Martin?" Ruth said as she watched her nephew place the mask over Mr. Hammond's mouth and nose.

"No. He has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. I was unsure at first, but it seems to have progressed more quickly than I anticipated." Martin furrowed his brow as he looked down at his patient and the puddle of vomit on the floor. "Though I don't understand why you could be vomiting." He thought for a moment then frowned. "Mr. Hammond," he addressed his patient, "have you been drinking again?" The older man shook his head. "Are you being honest with me?"

Mr. Hammond removed the oxygen mask from his face. "Yes. Doc, I swear. I haven't touched a drop in weeks. You said no alcohol while I was on that medication you prescribed me."

"What medication?" Martin scoured his brain for anything he could remember about the man's medication as he moved towards the bathroom. He came back with the empty bottle of benzodiazepines he prescribed a few weeks ago. "This is empty," he said as he held the bottle out in front of his patient. "Vomiting is a common side effect, but you shouldn't have had any problems with it since I put you on a low—" He stopped mid-sentence and scowled, fighting to control the anger that was building. "Mr. Hammond, you ignored my instructions on the dosage I prescribed, didn't you?"

The elderly man went to replace the mask over his face but Martin pulled his trembling hand away. "I'm sorry, Doc. I didn't think the amount you prescribed would be enough to stop the pain."

"Do you think I prescribe medication for fun?!" Martin shouted.

Ruth tried to intervene. "Martin, I think—"

He put his hand up to silence her. "I knew I shouldn't have put you on these. You're probably going through the beginnings of withdrawal."

Mr. Hammond let out a cough. "But my pain, Doc?"

Martin shook his head. "There isn't much I can do for you, Mr. Hammond." After a few moments he let out a sigh. "If I have Ruth monitor your medication and you promise to adhere to my instructions, I'll keep you on the diazepam."

"I promise, Doc."

Martin turned to face his aunt. "I hate to make you play the babysitter, but could you monitor his medication schedule?"

"Of course, Martin. We usually see each other every morning anyway."

"Right. Let's get you somewhere comfortable, Mr. Hammond. Ruth, could you . . . ?" He indicated the splatter of vomit on the floor.

Ruth gave her nephew a deadpan look. "I suppose you could add maid to my list of duties as babysitter, hmm?"

Martin wrinkled his brow. "No. I just thought if you wanted to help . . ."

Ruth gave his upper arm a gentle pat. "It's alright, Martin. I wasn't being serious."

"I see."

Once Mr. Hammond was settled in his bedroom, Martin came back to the sitting room where his aunt had just finished cleaning up the mess that was on the floor. "Would you mind sitting with him for a while? I have to get back to the surgery so I can write his prescription. And Ruth," he said as he stopped at the front door. "I mean it about that medication. He's in a fragile state already with the nerve and muscle weakness."

Ruth could tell that her nephew cared for the older man she'd come to enjoy spending her time with. "I'll be vigilant." She smirked. "Though I suppose at this stage we might as well move in together."

Martin's face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. "For God's sake! I'm not asking you to marry the man."

"I know, Martin. I was just teasing you."

He shook his head. "Right. At least the two of you are roughly the same age," he muttered as he turned to leave, thinking once again back to the disturbing relationship his Auntie Joan had with that young painter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I'll be back shortly with that prescription."

"Thank you, Martin."

With a grunt Martin left the cottage and headed back home, hoping this time there wouldn't be any unexpected encounters with the many animals that chose to roam free about the streets of Portwenn.

. . .

"Everything settled?" Louisa asked once Martin returned home after dropping off the prescription with Mr. Hammond.

"Yes."

"Good." She gave him a smile as he remained unmoving at the top step of the kitchen. "I thought we could eat early tonight."

"I see. Where's James?"

"Upstairs. He was tired after our walk."

Martin looked down at his watch. "Right. Um, did you need any help?"

"That would be lovely, Martin. Thank you." She had him wash and chop the vegetables while she prepared the chicken.

They had an early yet quiet dinner and after James Henry was successfully put to bed under the soothing voice of his father, Martin and Louisa were both ready for bed.

"I think I'll go and speak with Penhale tomorrow," Louisa said as she finished rubbing her scented lotion over her hands and arms.

Martin scrunched his nose at the overpowering scent. "About your father?"

"Mmhmm. I figure it's worth a try. Joe can be very helpful . . . sometimes, at least."

"The man's still a cupcake."

She reached over to gently slap his shoulder. "Oh, Mar-tin, so what? Joe's our friend."

Martin curled his lip. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him before settling down on her side. "He's getting married soon. Until then, it would be nice if you could at least be friendly towards him."

He let out a deep sigh. "If it really means that much to you."

Louisa smiled. "Yes it would. Thank you, Martin." She shifted closer to him so she could kiss his cheek then settled her head against his collarbone.

"Mm," he grunted as his left hand moved to cover the one she placed on his chest. The room grew quiet for some time as shadows from the moon were cast about in various shapes and angles. "Louisa?" Martin spoke into the darkness as he turned his head to look at her.

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking about your father."

"You were thinking about my father?"

"Mm. About how you want to find him. I was thinking that I could contact a few former colleagues of mine back in London—see if they can't release his medical records and current address to me."

Louisa sat up on her elbow. "Oh, Martin, you'd do that for me?"

"Yes. If your efforts with Penhale fail, that is."

"Martin, that's . . . thank you." In her excitement Louisa leaned down and kissed him square on the mouth, eliciting a much more passionate response than she intended. As she pulled away from him, Louisa let her hand glide languidly down his front. "You know I did promise to finish what we started when we were up on the cliffs."

Even though she couldn't see him clearly in the dark, Martin furrowed his brow. "I thought we just did?"

"Martin Ellingham, if you couldn't pick up on the hint back at the cliffs I'm a little worried."

"You mean you want to . . . ?" He could see her head move and deduced she must have nodded. "But you're—I mean I've never . . ." Martin cleared his throat, feeling slightly awkward at the prospect. "Won't it be uncomfortable for you, Louisa? I don't want to hurt you."

"Martin, I'm only two months pregnant."

"Yes, but you have a high-risk pregnancy. There are a manner of things that can—mm."

Louisa silenced him with another kiss, holding his face with both hands. "Please, Martin? For me?"

He thought for a moment then reached over to turn on his bedside lamp. "I want to be able to see you," he said as the room was bathed in a subdued glow.

She smiled and leaned over to kiss him again, her hands wandering to the buttons of his pajama top.

When she ended the kiss, Martin looked down at her chest. "Are you sensitive here?" he asked as he hesitantly placed a hand over her breast.

"A little."

He ran his hand down the middle of her chest to her abdomen, slipping his fingers underneath her nightshirt to caress her bare skin.

"Martin . . ." She pulled away from his embrace to remove her pajamas.

He became entranced by the new roundness of her figure. "You're so very beautiful, Louisa."

Looking down, she could see the evidence of his physical response to her. Leaning close to his ear she whispered, "I think we should remove these, don't you?" Her hand had found its way to the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

Without answering, Martin gently rolled her over so he was above her. Leaning back, he shimmied his way out of the rest of his nightclothes then settled between her legs. "If you're uncomfortable at all or feel any twinges you'll tell me, right?" he said as his fingers curled her dark hair behind her ear.

Seeing his love reflected in his eyes, she nodded, "Yes."

Bracing himself with both hands on either side of her and a quick movement of his hips, they were together. Martin buried his face in the crook of her neck as Louisa's arms came around his shoulders, her fingers tracing the sharp contours of his shoulder blades.

They remained still for a moment, letting the sensation of being together last. Martin couldn't recall how long it had been since the last time they'd made love. He didn't care. She was with him now and that's what mattered most.

"Martin," he heard her say.

He pulled back to look down at her. "Yes?"

"Make love to me."

The corners of his mouth twitched and he leaned down to capture her lips in a long kiss. He began to move and Louisa gasped as she curled the fingers of one hand in the hair at the back of his head while the other slid down his back.

Their coupling was as slow and tender as the first time. Martin took extra care to be as gentle as possible. It was no longer just the two of them anymore. And as awkward as he first thought it to be, he found he rather enjoyed himself.

"That was beautiful, Martin," Louisa said once they finished, her head now resting against his chest, their legs still slightly entwined.

Martin let his fingers comb through her hair, feeling it damp from their exertions. "Thank you."

She turned her head to look at him. "I mean it."

"I know."

The arm that was slung over his abdomen moved slightly as her right hand found his left. "Do you think we'll find my father?"

Martin let out a yawn. "Yes."

"Good. I'd just like to see him—at least one last time."

"You will. I'm sure of it."

Louisa entwined their fingers together. "You know I love you so very much, Martin."

"Yes, I know." He was silent for a breath. "And I love you."

With a smile, Louisa nuzzled her cheek against her husband's bare chest, taking comfort in the warmth of his skin. Their hands separated as he shifted slightly to turn out the light. As the room became bathed in darkness once again, Louisa felt his hand return to hers. She peered up at him discreetly. His eyes were closed and the muscles of his face relaxed while his exhausted body succumbed to sleep. _My extraordinary man,_ she thought while her thumb traced along the edge of his forefinger, listening as the gentle hum of her husband's breathing lulled her to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

**Hello everyone! It's been a while I know and I apologize for the temporary hiatus. I was busy and distracted over the summer and every time I tried to sit down and write I just became frustrated. So I'm feeling refreshed and ready to get back into things again. I've just entered my final year of school (finally) and I'm super excited to be done with it all. I'm currently working on a few original short stories for one of my classes so updates may be slow for the next few months. I originally planned to have four or five chapters written before I updated but I thought, stuff that! This one's been taking up space on my computer for weeks, so why not? There is a shorter chapter that continues directly with this one that I almost have completed, so hopefully by the end of the weekend you can expect to see that one posted as well. Again, apologies for taking so long and I appreciate everyone's patience so far. I will not abandon this story. I am determined to finish it. I do have a continuation piece to this fic that I'm planning to write as soon as I wrap this one up, so definitely a lot to look forward to. I hope you guys like this one and comments/feedback is always appreciated if you should choose to do so!**

Chapter Forty-two

The following morning Martin was up early as usual. Despite their exhausting activities the previous night, he felt well-rested and eager to begin his Sunday morning. He turned his head to find Louisa facing him. Her mouth was slightly open, emitting a soft snore every few breaths, while the rest of her remained relaxed and still. Even with her hair partially tousled, she looked as beautiful as ever.

He wanted nothing more than to stay in bed until Louisa woke up, but if he was going to try to help find her father then he was going to need all the free time he could get. Gently extracting the arm that was slung across his waist, Martin sat up and reached for his dressing gown then headed for the bathroom.

He just finished tucking in his white dress shirt and was about to select his tie for the day when he heard Louisa stir behind him in bed. "Morning," he said as he turned around to face her.

She smiled while sitting up, holding the bedsheets to cover herself. "Good morning."

"Um, how are you feeling?" he asked, looping a navy-blue tie around his neck.

"Like I was truly appreciated by my husband."

The tips of Martin's ears turned red as he recalled their passionate activities the previous night. He cleared his throat. "Right. But you're not nauseous at all?"

Louisa thought for a moment then shook her head. "No I don't think so. Maybe I've finally passed that stage, hmm?"

"Possibly." He straightened the knot of his tie then slipped on his dark pin-striped suit. "But you should probably eat something soon. Low blood sugar is a common cause of morning sickness."

Louisa raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Is there anything you recommend, Doctor?"

"Foods rich in vitamins and minerals will do."

She ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her face while trying to stifle a laugh. "I know. I was just joking, Martin."

He shook his head. "Right. I, um . . . I'll go get James. I'm sure he's awake by now."

Before he could leave the room, she called out, "I'll have eggs—scrambled—with a side of bacon."

Martin paused in the doorway and turned back to face her. "Bacon is filled with salts, saturated fats, and god knows what—all of which you don't need."

Louisa crossed her arms just as the bedsheets fell from her chest. "It's what the _baby_ and I fancy, Martin."

He tightened his jaw, trying to hold back the bitter reply that was poised on the tip of his tongue. "Fine," he grumbled before turning away to tend to James.

By the time Louisa made it downstairs after showering and dressing, Martin and James were already at the table starting breakfast. "Oh, this looks lovely!" she said as she surveyed the array of healthy foods that were laid out.

Martin looked up at her with a furrowed brow. The changes of her moods continued to fluster him and he was never quite sure when to expect a glare or a smile of appreciation. He had substituted her request of bacon for a cup of yogurt and fruit, deciding that he'd rather take the chance that she be angry with him instead of seeing her miserable over an upset stomach.

"And how's my little boy this morning, hmm?" Louisa bent down and nuzzled her nose in the crook of his neck, eliciting a string of giggles from the toddler. "Don't worry, Martin. I didn't forget about you." She turned to her husband, leaned over, and to his surprise, kissed him deeply. "Is this a new suit?"

Martin looked down at his attire then flitted his gaze back to his wife. "No."

"Oh. I guess I've just never seen you wear that one before."

"It's what was left in my wardrobe. The others need to be dry-cleaned."

Louisa finally moved around the table to sit across from him. "I can run down there later today if you want?"

"No, that's fine. I can do it tomorrow before the surgery opens."

"But I was going to head to the police station to speak with Penhale. It's on the way and it'll save you the trouble of doing it tomorrow."

"Louisa—"

She gave him one of her no-nonsense looks. "No, Martin, I insist. The exercise will do me good."

"Fine. If you really want to."

A grin spread out across her features. "Thank you." She returned to her breakfast and looked around the table. "Martin, where's the bacon I asked for?"

He discreetly pulled over the newspaper and flipped the front page to avoid the anger he knew was coming. "I thought yogurt would be a healthier source of protein, along with the, um, eggs."

"But I wanted bacon."

Glancing up at her from the paper, Martin could have sworn he saw her bottom lip poke out in protest. "I know. But this way you'll be getting more calcium than you would a glass of milk, which is important for muscle and bone health . . ." He cleared his throat when he reaslised that he was lecturing, the tension between them growing thicker with the awkward silence that ensued. "Would you like some toast?" He pushed over the silver holder containing a few slices of lightly buttered toast.

"No, thank you."

"I see."

Louisa held her jaw rigid as she attempted to keep an outburst from escaping. Instead of admonishing him like she usually would, she turned her attention away from Martin to her son, who was being awfully quiet for a Sunday morning. "And what would James like to do today, hmm?"

James looked up at the sound of his mother's voice. A pudgy hand dug around in the plastic bowl that was on the tray of his high chair. Pulling out a handful of blueberries, the toddler reached out to hand them to his mother.

Louisa smiled and took the pile of sticky fruit from her son. "Maybe Daddy can take you down to the beach?" She turned her gaze over to her husband. "Martin?"

He folded the newspaper over then stood up from his chair. "Mm, maybe later. I have a patient I want to look in on. Why don't you take him?"

She let out a sigh then looked around the table for a suitable place to put the blueberries James had given her. "I'd be glad to, but I thought you two might want to spend some time together."

"I got him dressed this morning, doesn't that count?"

Louisa tilted her head, giving him an annoyed look. "You know what I mean, Martin."

He swallowed the last of his espresso then placed his used breakfast dishes in the sink. "We can go together then—but later."

"Alright. But would you mind watching him while I'm out? Then when I get back you can go visit your patient?"

Martin pulled back the cuff of his suit to look at his watch. "Yes, I suppose that's fine."

She gave him a smile then stood up to kiss his cheek. "I'll grab your suits for the dry-cleaners. Oh, and while I'm doing that could you make a list of the prenatal stuff I'll be needing?"

"Yes." As she turned to head for the stairs, he reached out and touched her arm. "But Louisa? Are you ready to face Mrs. Tishell? I know you said you wanted to wait a while before we started telling others about the pregnancy."

"I'll have to at some point, so I might as well just get it over with now. And what can she say that'll anger me? We're married now, unlike when I was carrying James."

He creased his brow. "What do you mean anger you?"

Louisa shook her head. "It was a while ago, Martin. It's nothing."

"No. I'd like to know what she said to you."

Her insides tingled as the protective side of him stepped forth. "I don't remember the exact words, but something along the lines of getting myself pregnant, and that she didn't think there'd be a church wedding. Oh, Martin, it was ages ago. And you know how she is about our relationship."

"But she shouldn't have said those things to you."

"Well you and I weren't exactly on the best of terms then, were we?" His mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to say something more, but nothing came. "It's water under the bridge now. I'll be fine." She reached up to grasp the sides of his chin between her thumb and forefinger. "But I'm touched that you care."

Martin tried averting his gaze but he couldn't quite pull himself away from her, not when she looked at him with such pride and adoration. "You know I never like to see you hurt."

She smiled again, letting her thumb pass over the smoothness of his freshly-shaven jaw. "I know."

Before she could turn away he said, "Good luck—with Penhale, I mean. We'll find him."

"I hope so," she said, thinking of her dying father, miserable and alone.

A crooked half-smile appeared at the edges of his mouth. Louisa rushed past him towards the stairs, calling out, "Be a good boy, James!"

He looked down at his son, who seemed to be absorbed in his own world for the time being. "Right. I'll just do the washing up. Then we can have some fun."

. . .

With Martin's suits draped over one arm and the other holding her purse and shoulder bag, Louisa set off down Roscarrock Hill. There was a slight chill in the air that didn't seem to bother her. In fact, it felt refreshing. The sound of waves lapping against the beach and the high-pitched shrieks of gulls soaring overhead was music to her ears.

"Morning, Louiser!" came Bert's call from the Platt. He was chatting with one of the fishermen, no doubt trying to settle on a deal that would most likely benefit himself financially.

Louisa raised the arm with her purse to wave at him. "Morning!" She hoped that he wouldn't try to regale her into one of his endless conversations. But before she even thought about increasing her pace, the whiskey entrepreneur had already shuffled up behind her.

"Like some company?" he asked, his breathing coming in measured pants as he tried to recover from his feeble attempt at a sprint.

"Oh, hi, Bert. I'm kind of in a hurry if you don't mind."

Bert nodded vigorously. "Of course, of course. I'll be quick." He paused to take in another deep breath. "I was just wonderin' if you and the Doc and the little one wanted to come out ta the farm next week for Joe and Janice's engagement party?"

Louisa's ponytail flicked sharply as she turned to face him. "An engagement party? We haven't received an invitation."

"Oh, Joe's been keepin' it on the down low if you know what I mean."

"Well I'd have to ask Martin—"

"Of course. I'm not sayin' you have to make a decision now, but I'll put yer names down as _probable._ "

"Thanks, Bert, but I'd really rather—"

"It's next Saturday evening," Bert interjected. He wandered off with a wave of his hand. "Cheers, Louisa!"

Louisa let out an exasperated sigh. "Right. Okay."

After dropping off Martin's suits at the dry-cleaners before they closed early, Louisa finally came to a stop outside the police station. With one hand to support herself on the side of the building, she leaned over slightly to catch her breath. It was a much longer walk than she first anticipated, and the many hills only seemed to exasperate the aches she already began to feel in her feet and ankles.

"Louisa?"

She looked up at Penhale, who came out from behind his police car with a grease-smudged towel clutched in his left hand. "Morning, Joe."

"I was just polishing the old wheels," he said, his characteristic grin spreading out across his features.

"Can I ask you a favor? You know, as friends?"

Penhale scrunched the towel into his fist. "Of course." He took a step closer and leaned over to speak softly, "You're not having problems at home, are you? Because I can head over and talk some sense into the Doc if you need me to. We all know what a catch you are and—"

"Joe," Louisa said sharply, "There's nothing wrong between Martin and I. It's my father. Do you think you can help me find where he's been living?"

The constable thought for a moment. "So you want to file a missing person's report?"

"No. He's not missing. I just want to find out where he's been living."

Penhale scrunched up his nose in confusion. "He's not missing, but you don't know where he lives? I'm a bit confused."

Louisa waved her hand at the building. "Could you just try and look him up on your computer or something?"

"Sure, but it's not as simple as you might think it is."

Louisa rolled her eyes as she followed him into the station and to his office.

"Security is tight when it comes to these things," he explained, sitting down behind the front desk. "They make me type in four different passwords. Can never remember the darned things so I keep 'em written down." He tapped a blue sticky note with four lines of letters and numbers scribbled across it.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you really think it's a good idea to keep those out in the open?"

He snapped his fingers. "Smart. Someone could be watching us this very moment."

Already feeling like she was losing her patience, Louisa curled her fingers tightly around the strap of her shoulder bag. "As much as I'd like to discuss the possibility of someone spying on us, I'd prefer it if we could just try and find my father. Please?"

"Right. Before we get to that I'm just going to need you to fill out this form first." Penhale swiveled around in his chair and swiped a piece of paper from a stack behind him.

"What form?"

"Just your preliminary details."

Louisa looked down at the sheet of paper in front of her. "Joe, you know who I am—fairly well I'd say."

He shrugged. "Police protocol I'm afraid. I can't have my superiors think I'm breaking the rules for friends. I won't let you blight my statistics, Louisa Ellingham." He chuckled to himself.

 _Just humour the man, Louisa,_ she told herself. With a forced smile, she picked up the pen and began to fill out the form.

"Hmm. I've never met your dad," Penhale said once he finally began a search in the police database. "Your mum was rather nice when she was here. But I had a feeling that she was hiding something."

"She was trying to find a cheap way to obtain seafood for her restaurant. Cared more for herself than for me," she mumbled, casting a stray glance out the window behind Penhale.

"Sounds fishy." He laughed at his own joke. "Get it? Because it's seafood . . ."

Louisa bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes. Now can we please just concentrate on my father?"

The station grew quiet as Penhale typed away on his keyboard while Louisa absently played with a frayed edge of her shoulder bag.

"Did you find anything yet?" she asked over the silence between them.

"Not as such. I don't have internal access to most of the information I'm finding on your dad."

"Why not?"

"Don't know. But I bet my superiors might be able to dig something up."

"Well how long will that take?"

The constable shrugged. "Couldn't say. But I'll do my best, Louisa. If you could fill out one more form I bet it'll make the process go a lot _smoother,_ " he said, elongating the syllables of the last word.

She began to protest when he handed her the missing person's report, but eventually she caught on to his line of thinking. "If you insist."

"Bert told me you and Janice are having an engagement party next weekend," Louisa said once she handed him the completed form.

Penhale smiled. "Yeah. Didn't you get an invitation?" He sighed loudly as Louisa shook her head. "I told Al to post them last week."

"It's alright, Joe. I'll ask Martin about it when I get home. Just don't forget to send us the wedding invitation."

"At this rate I might as well be my own best man. Hey, do you think the Doc would mind if I asked him?"

She could already hear her husband's stern rejection in her head. She hated to discourage Penhale, but more than likely he was going to end up disappointed anyway. "I'm sure if you asked him at the right moment his answer might just surprise you."

Penhale gave her a warm smile. "Thanks, Louisa. And I'll do my best about your dad, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I understand. I wasn't expecting an answer straight away. But it helps that you tried."

"Before you go I was wondering if we could set up a few times for me to do some police safety lessons with the kids at the school?"

"Of course. I'll see if I can find some spare time."

"Great."

She smiled at him before turning to leave the station, still unsure of how to feel about the situation with her father. Casting a glance at the ocean, all Louisa wanted to do was to get home and spend time with her family. But the dreaded trip to the pharmacy still stood stubbornly in her way.

. . .

"This is Dr. Ellingham—Portwenn," Martin said into the phone while pacing around the living room, simultaneously keeping an eye on James as he played quietly on the floor by the sofa. "What do you mean you can't disclose the information?" He rolled his eyes, half-listening to the other practitioner on the phone ramble on about patient confidentiality. "I understand that he's an ex-convict, but this is my wife's father and he's very ill—oh, never mind I'll go over there myself." Martin angrily ended the call, muttering "Idiot" as he did so.

He placed the receiver back in its holder on the small desk behind the sofa then stepped up into the kitchen, drawing a solid line through the name on the list he'd made earlier. He was deep in thought that he barely registered the sound of the kitchen door rattling open until he heard Louisa's voice.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she said as she dropped her bag and purse on the table, causing him to look up at her.

Martin shook his head. "A list of colleagues I've been contacting. I completely forgot what useless morons they all are."

"Oh, Mar-tin, I'm sure that's not true. Hello, James!" She leaned over to pick him up when he ran to greet her. "No luck, then?"

"No. They won't release any of his medical records because he's an ex-convict. I need to have certain jurisdiction apparently. Bloody ridiculous. What about you? Did Penhlae prove his worth?"

"He was actually very helpful. He couldn't get access to anything either, but he's going to ask some of his superiors about it." She let out a sigh while shifting James to her other hip. "It shouldn't be this difficult, should it? I mean he's my father. I should think I'd be entitled to know where he is."

"Perhaps he doesn't want you to find him."

Louisa bit down on her lower lip, refusing to believe that it could be a possibility. The last time they spoke he and his bipolar friend had stopped in the village to pick up explosives for their next "job". She didn't exactly give him a respectable farewell, but she had thrown him out of her flat for lying to her about the Lifeboat money. However, she didn't want that horrible visit to be the last memory she had of him.

"I don't care," she replied, putting a squirming James back down on his feet. "He can be as stubborn as he wants, but I will see him again whether he likes it or not." And with a swish of her ponytail, Louisa breezed out of the room, heading for the stairs. Martin raised his brow, his wife's fierce determination stirring something inside him.

After some further contemplation, Martin placed James in his playpen, making sure the baby monitor was switched on, then ambled upstairs to their bedroom. The door was ajar and he could see Louisa standing in front of the chest of drawers, the top one slightly pulled open.

"Louisa?"

Startled, she turned her head to face him, closing the drawer in the process. "What is it, Martin?"

"Um, I just wanted to tell you that I'll be leaving to see my patient soon. James is downstairs in his playpen." He reached over and turned on the baby monitor that connected to the one downstairs. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head, looking back at the dresser to study the assortment of makeup essentials she owned. "No."

"Is there something I can do?"

When she turned to face him again, her eyes were laced with fury. "No, Martin! This isn't something you can just fix with medicine or surgery!"

"I wasn't suggesting that—"

"Martin, please!" She covered her face for a moment then let out a deep sigh. "I just want to be alone right now."

He looked down at the carpet. "I see." The room grew quiet all of a sudden. "I . . . I shouldn't be gone long."

"Wait," she called out before he could leave the room. "I didn't go to the pharmacy while I was out. I-I just couldn't do it. So would you mind doing it instead? The list is in my purse on the kitchen table."

Martin glanced up at her cautiously. "Yes." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Louisa, I'm sorry this has been difficult for you and I know you don't want to hear me lecture, but you can't let the stress of the situation get to you. There's another life here that's relying on you now. I'd hate for something to happen."

Louisa plucked a tissue from the box next to her mirror and wiped her sniffling nose. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's what you said downstairs that got me thinking; that maybe my father doesn't want to see me." She stepped closer to Martin. "And I can't have his last visit here be the last time I ever saw him. I can't."

Martin swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. "I understand."

"I know I just found out yesterday, but I want to thank you for supporting me through all this. You have no idea how much it means to me."

Martin reached down to take one of her hands. "You have plenty of time to see him. I just want you to concentrate on taking care of yourself."

Louisa smiled slightly. "I think I keep forgetting that."

"Mm. I'll just have to keep reminding you then." He squeezed her hand before letting it go. "I should be back in an hour or so."

"I love you, Martin."

He paused, halfway out their bedroom door, and turned back to face her. "I love you, too."

Closing her eyes, Louisa listened to the methodic _thud-thud_ of her husband's footsteps as he descended the stairs. She heard James squeal in delight through the baby monitor when Martin called out to him. Opening her eyes, she looked down and placed a hand over the flat of her abdomen, feeling a slight firmness she hadn't felt there before.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-three

"Filthy stinking animal," Martin muttered to himself as he regained his balance after tripping over a stray cat. He smoothed out a crease in his suit and picked up his over-turned medical bag, now annoyed that he'd have to rearrange all his supplies back to their proper place. He knocked on the door of his patient's cottage. It swung open and he was surprised to see his aunt in the doorway.

"Oh! Martin!" she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

"Ruth? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too."

His aunt's dry and sarcastic nature didn't faze him while he walked past her through the kitchen. "How's he been? Since yesterday, I mean?"

"Tired and irritable—mostly irritable I'm afraid."

Martin furrowed his brow. "Hmm. Is he awake?"

"Somewhat. He's been nodding off here and there."

"Right." Martin followed his aunt to the bedroom at the back of the cottage. "Has he been taking his medication accordingly?"

Ruth clasped her hands together as they entered the small bedroom. "Yes. I've been as strict as I can be under the circumstances."

Martin turned to look at her, noticing the deep shades of purple underneath her eyes. "You should go home, Ruth, and get some sleep," he suggested.

She shook her head. "I can't—not now. He needs to be looked after closely, especially after what happened yesterday."

He let out a sigh. "There are plenty of nurses who are capable of monitoring him."

Ruth shook her head again, adamant about her position on the subject. "He won't agree to a nurse. I . . ." She bit her lip, afraid to admit her true intentions. "I don't mind being here, Martin. It makes me feel useful."

"I see." He cleared his throat before addressing his patient. "Afternoon, Mr. Hammond. How are you feeling today?"

The elderly man peered up at the tall doctor in a haze of exhaustion and drug-induced confusion. "How do you think, Doc?" He coughed to clear his throat.

"Right. Yes." Feeling uncomfortable with two sets of eyes observing him, Martin fumbled around in the side-pocket of his medical bag, eventually pulling out his stethoscope. "Let's have a listen, shall we?"

While her nephew listened to Mr. Hammond's heart and lungs, Ruth stepped out of the room to give them some privacy. She lingered in the kitchen, tidying the countertops while she waited for the water in the kettle to boil. Draping the wrung-out cloth over the faucet of the sink, she gazed out the window at the ocean, thinking, the view partially obscured by a neighboring cottage and dense shrubbery.

Ruth knew she was fond of the elderly gentleman, and it was true that she had begun to feel useful again. But her age was starting to catch up with her. She dug the nail of her thumb into the skin of her forefinger, refusing to acknowledge the fact. There were plenty of years left ahead of her, and the urge to do something meaningful with that time was always at the forefront of her mind.

While she let the tea steep in her mug, a small grin formed at the thought of another great niece or nephew. Though she never had a deep longing for a child of her own, she always felt a certain closeness with James Henry. She wasn't the grandmotherly type, she knew—that would have been Joan's role—but a favourite aunt held just as much love and affection. And she couldn't be more pleased for Martin and Louisa. After all they'd been through in the last few years, they deserved a happy life together, no matter how unsuitable she thought they seemed for each other.

"Ruth."

Her hand flinched at her nephew's voice, startling her and almost knocking over the mug of tea that was next to her arm on the counter. She turned around to face him. "How is he?"

"Fine, erm, better than yesterday," Martin replied. "He's asleep for now. You can see him if you want." He glanced down at the floor. "I'm only asking, but if you're determined to look after him, you should probably think about moving some of your things over."

Ruth bit down on her lower lip. "I . . . Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Mm. Al could probably help you with that."

"Yes, good idea. I'll ask him about it later."

Martin pulled his arm up to look at his watch. "I should go. I have the pharmacy to stop at as well."

He moved for the front door, but Ruth stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'm proud of you, Martin," she said, unblinking and serious.

He was surprised, unsure of what to say in response. Ruth was never overly affectionate with him, but he never doubted that she loved and cared for him. It made him think of his Auntie Joan and how she loved to hug him and plaster his cheeks in kisses whenever he would visit her. "Mm, for what?" he replied, his brow furrowed and head tilted.

"For the life you've built for yourself, especially after all that's happened to you—your childhood and your blood phobia, even Louisa." His demeanor remained unchanged. "I never thought the two of you could make a go of things after she left for Spain. But I was wrong." She shook her head. Rarely did she feel this overcome by emotion. "I'll admit, you have something I never had."

"What's that?"

"A family of your own."

His features softened ever so slightly. "Ruth—"

She held her hand up. "It's alright, Martin. I'm content with my life. I just wonder sometimes at what might have been."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. It was never meant for me. I was always too reserved anyway." Martin didn't reply. "But _you_ changed. And for that I'm proud."

Martin looked away, feeling embarrassed. He couldn't make sense of his aunt's sudden urge to be affectionate. Perhaps it had something to do with the elderly gentleman in the room at the back of the house that was slowly wasting away. Whatever the reason, he wasn't going to object to a little pride and encouragement. "Yes. Right. I-I should head out."

"Say hello to Louisa and James for me. And I'll let you know if there are any problems." She gestured with a nod of her head towards the back room.

"Yes." He opened the door and stepped outside. "I'll see you later then."

"Bye, Martin."

He left the cottage without a backwards glance and quickly made his way to the pharmacy, hoping to get his visit with Mrs. Tishell out of the way without any hiccups or distractions. _That'll be the day_ , he thought while rounding the corner of a side street.

Stepping inside the shop, the bell above the door signaling his presence, Martin approached the counter in confident stride. "I'll be with you in a tick!" he heard the woman's shrill voice from the back of the shop. He waited patiently, his free hand held loosely behind his back. Looking down at the counter, his eye caught a leaflet for a bed and breakfast located somewhere in Scotland. He looked up at the sound of clunky footsteps.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham! It's you!" Mrs. Tishell exclaimed, covering her chest to calm her racing heart. "What can I do for you on this lovely afternoon?" She gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

Martin's brow furrowed as an annoyed look fell across his face. "I just need the items on this list," he said, reaching inside the pocket of his suit. He held out the folded piece of paper and immediately let go when their fingers made contact.

The pharmacist nodded as she read the list to herself. "Another mother-to-be, hmm?"

Martin tilted his head down as he stared back at her, his features completely taut and unflinching.

Mrs. Tishell glanced at him over the list in front of her. "Is something wrong, Dr. Ellingham?"

"No." As she turned away to retrieve the items he requested, Martin spun the travel brochure around to gaze over it more closely.

"Clive suggested it," Mrs. Tishell said when she moved back to the counter with his bag of supplies, noticing what caught the doctor's interest.

Martin looked up at her, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. "I was just looking."

"We're planning to go sometime this summer. Have you ever been, Dr. Ellingham? To Scotland, I mean?"

"No." He gave her his usual curt reply and reached for the bag containing Louisa's prenatal items. "My supplies, please, Mrs. Tishell?"

"Oh, it really is beautiful there, Dr. Ellingham," she said, a dreamy, faraway look spreading over her features.

"I'm sure it is." He reached again for the paper bag, but she wouldn't let him have it yet.

"And so much wilderness and open landscapes. It'll be just the two of us. No bustling cities with overcrowded streets and shops. How romantic is that?"

"Very. Now may I please have my supplies?"

One hand flew up in the air. "Oh, of course! Where is my head!" She finally handed over the small bag. "I'll just put it on your account? Or will the patient stop by for payment?"

"I'll cover it, thank you."

Mrs. Tishell narrowed her eyes at him. "That's very kind of you, Dr. Ellingham."

"Yes."

The woman smiled, which put Martin on edge. "And that's why our village has been blessed with such a generous and skilled doctor."

"Right. I'll just be on my way then."

"Oh, wait! Dr. Ellingham, here." Mrs. Tishell handed him the brochure he was looking at earlier. "You seemed interested in it, so . . ." She shrugged. "Maybe you could take Louisa?" She let out a low chuckle. "Wouldn't it be funny if we both ended up going at the same time?"

Martin frowned, slipping the leaflet inside his suit. Nothing could be worse than being holed up in the same hotel as the Tishells. "I'm laughing already." He turned to leave the shop, but was startled when she rounded the counter and hugged him.

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham. You'll never know how grateful I am to you for saving Clive's life." She looked up at him. "I know you and I have a connection, but truly my heart lies with Clive. I hope you can understand?"

Martin's frown deepened as he tried twisting out of her embrace. "Right. I-I . . . Louisa and James are waiting for me."

"Of course." Mrs. Tishell released her hold on him. She watched him pass by the shop through the glass windows, absently playing with the top button of her cardigan. She smiled then turned to continue her stocktaking in the back.

. . .

Louisa was in the living room playing with James when she heard the front door click shut. She turned around from her spot on the sofa to greet him, only to realise that he must have retreated to his consulting room instead. She decided to give him a few minutes to unwind before she became concerned. "Hey, careful," Louisa said as she gently pulled James away from the corner of the coffee table. "We don't want an accident, now do we?"

James looked up at his mother with a grin. He handed her a yellow stacking block with the number _7_ etched into it. "Mum-mee!" he squealed when she pulled him into her arms for a hug.

"Louisa, I have your prenatal care from the pharmacy." Martin finally made his presence known from the top step of the kitchen, holding up the paper bag.

She turned to look at him. "Thank you, Martin."

"I'll put it in the bathroom upstairs for you."

He swept past her towards the stairs and Louisa wondered why he was being so evasive. It wasn't unusual behaviour for him, but it always worried her when he kept things to himself. They'd made significant progress in their marriage since her return from Spain. She didn't want to go back to the silent evenings and stilted conversations. They were expecting another child. And on top of that, trying to come to terms with her father's illness. Now was not the time for them to drift apart again.

"Thank you for taking us to the beach," Louisa said later that evening as she watched Martin climb into bed next to her.

He finished setting his alarm before turning to face her. "Mm. The weather was cooperative. And James seemed to enjoy himself."

Louisa smiled, thinking of their afternoon at the beach earlier. "I think he's going to be a swimmer."

Martin furrowed his brow. "I highly doubt that James will grow up to be a professional athlete."

Louisa gave his shoulder a playful nudge. "I meant as a school sport, Martin . . . or as a hobby. The ocean doesn't seem to frighten him at all."

Reaching over to his nightstand, Martin pulled his medical journal into his lap and flipped it open to where he last left off. "He can participate in sports when he's older. I won't stop him."

"Really? Do you really mean that?"

He turned away from his reading to look at her. "Of course. I never played sports as a child. My father played golf regularly but I never had any interest in it." His gaze shifted away from hers for a moment, thinking. "I want James to be happy as a child. And if that means dragging him off to sporting events every weekend then so be it."

"Oh, Martin, that's wonderful!" Smiling, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek with an enthusiasm that Martin wasn't prepared for. "I'm happy to hear you say that."

Martin held her to him with a hand on her upper back. "Mm. Yes."

Louisa shifted in his arms, settling herself against his right side with her head tucked in the crook of his neck. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

He had continued reading his journal and mumbled, "Hmm?"

"Please don't get angry."

Martin rolled his eyes and closed his journal, deciding that it was no use to continue without being interrupted. "What is it? Did something happen when you were out this morning?"

Louisa shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that. But I ran into Bert today and he invited us to Janice and Penhale's engagement party next weekend at the farm. I said I'd ask you about it first before accepting."

"Is it mandatory?"

"Well, no, but I think we should go regardless. They are our friends after all." He was silent for a minute until she felt his chest rise and fall, letting out a deep sigh.

"If you really want to."

Louisa smoothed a hand down the front of his pajama shirt. "I do want to. And we can bring James so we don't have to worry about a sitter."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. There's bound to be alcohol there. I don't want something to happen to him."

"He'll be fine, Martin."

He grunted, not feeling entirely convinced.

"There's one other thing," Louisa added.

"What?"

She bit down on her lip, afraid to ask him. "I want you to accept to be Penhale's best man."

Martin sat up straighter in bed, looking at her in disbelief. "What? Louisa, no."

"Martin, please? I know he'll ask you. He mentioned something about it when I visited him this morning."

"Louisa, I said no."

"But you're his friend, Martin." She waved her hand in the air. "Anyway, you don't really have to do anything, just stand next to him during the ceremony." She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. "Please? It would make penhale happy."

Martin thought for a long moment then let out a defeated sigh. "Fine. But I'm not making a speech. And I most certainly will not go on one of those ridiculous last nights of bachelorhood or whatever it is they call it these days."

Louisa smiled. "Thank you, Martin." She craned her head up to kiss his cheek.

"Mm." He felt her fidget around next to him, trying to get comfortable. "How have you felt today?"

Louisa finally laid back against her pillow, rolling her eyes. "The same as when you asked me this morning and while we were at the beach."

"I see." Martin reached over and switched off his bedside lamp, casting the room into complete darkness. "Before I forget," he began, rolling over to face Louisa, "I may have to be out of town for a couple of days."

Though the room was dark, Louisa still frowned. "When?"

"Sometime next week."

"For a conference?"

"Something like that."

Louisa hoisted herself up onto an elbow. "You're being awfully vague, Martin. Usually you're so direct and precise when planning things."

Though he knew he wasn't very good at lying, Martin was glad for the darkness surrounding them. One look at his wandering gaze would have given him away. "It's last minute," he quickly answered. Her following silence unnerved him.

"Where will you be going? London?" she finally asked.

"Not quite that far east."

"Hmm." Louisa still didn't know what to think of her husband's sudden travel plans. In the past he never seemed overly enthused about attending conferences and conventions. "Well, James and I will miss you."

Martin furrowed his brow in the darkness. "It'll only be for a few days, Louisa—two at the most."

She reached over and smoothed her fingers across his cheek. "I know. I just prefer you here . . . now that I'm pregnant."

Martin pulled her hand away to entwine their fingers together. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

Louisa bit down on her lip. "I know. It's still early and everything, but I guess I'm just nervous."

"That's perfectly normal, Louisa." He stared down at their joined hands. "I'm nervous too," he admitted, glancing back up at her.

She squeezed his hand. "Really?"

"It's different when I'm dealing with a patient, but you're everything I have—you and James."

"Martin . . ."

He let his thumb smooth over the knuckles of her hand before letting go. As much as he wanted to take advantage of his wife's romantic mood, his body felt too tired. "It's getting late."

Louisa watched in the dark as he rolled onto his back, once more adjusting his pillow. "Thank you for telling me," she said, settling herself against his side, one arm curled over his stomach. She smiled when she felt his arm drape over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

"Goodnight."

Closing her eyes at the softness of his voice, Louisa whispered," Goodnight, Martin."


	44. Chapter 44

**I apologize for the long wait. Life became busy, but I'm happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you all enjoy it! Happy New Year!**

Chapter Forty-four

The following week dragged on for Martin. He was still sorting out last minute details for his trip to Exeter. He planned to leave Friday, which happened to be the day of Penhale's engagement party, and return Sunday morning, hopefully with the exact whereabouts of Louisa's father. But he knew that trying to get out of Penhale's party was not going to go over well with Louisa.

So when surgery ended early Friday afternoon, Martin remained in the living room, waiting for her to come home from the school. He had relieved Janice of her babysitting duties once he finished with his last patient, aware that she had a party to finish preparing for.

James was sitting next to him on the sofa, clumsily turning the pages of a children's book Louisa often read to him. Martin looked down at his son when he felt the toddler's small hands settle on his leg. "What is it, James?"

The toddler waved his picture book in the air, almost sending it flying across the room from his weak grip. "Da-ee!" he shouted, looking up at his father with anxious, pleading eyes.

As much as Martin disliked the plot lines and inaccurate illustrations of his son's storybook collection, he enjoyed the feeling of holding James close while he read, imagining how different his own childhood could have been had his parents been more involved in his life. But he'd learned to live with the hand he was dealt, determined to give everything for his son and the child they were expecting later that autumn.

"Alright, then," he said, setting down his medical journal and lifting James into his lap. With one arm wrapped around his son's growing torso, Martin flipped open the children's book, taking comfort in the small fingers that curled around his hand and wrist.

The two had been engrossed in their reading that neither of them heard Louisa enter through the kitchen door. "Hello," she called out, smiling at the sight of her husband and son cuddled close together on the sofa.

"Hello," Martin replied, letting James slip down from his lap and onto the floor, running to greet his mother. Louisa swung him up into her arms, and Martin's initial reaction of wanting to admonish her for overexerting herself faded as her face lit up with happiness. "How was your day?" he asked, placing James's picture book down on the table before standing up.

"Good—better now that I'm home. Right, James?" She placed a kiss to her son's cheek then set him back down on his feet, watching him run off to play with his toys in the living room.

Martin had slowly made his way to the kitchen to stand in front of her. "And the walk home? It hasn't been too strenuous for you?"

Louisa smiled at his concern, but lately it was starting to become excessive—his constant need to know exactly how she felt every minute of the day. "I feel fine, Martin. I've told you—it's refreshing." Leaning up on her toes, they met each other halfway in a gentle kiss.

"I don't mean to irritate you," he started to explain, noticing her soft sighs and blatant eye-rolling. "I just want to do things right this time."

After peeking over his shoulder to make sure that James was still occupied by his toys, Louisa took hold of both of his hands. "Martin, I promise you that the moment I start to feel tired, I'll let you know."

He glanced down at their joined hands, letting his thumbs trace the rounded bones of her knuckles. "Alright. I'll try and take a step back, if that's what you want."

She smiled. "Thank you, Martin. Anyway, we still have a ways to go before the baby arrives. Once I'm fat and moody, then you can step in."

"You're pregnant, Louisa. You won't be _fat_. Although you'll gain a substantial amount of weight—"

"Martin . . ."

He tilted his head to the side. "What? You brought it up first."

She shook her head, choosing instead to think about the party they would be attending later. "Never mind. I should start getting ready for the party if we want to get there early."

She started to move past him, but Martin reached out for her. "Louisa, about that . . ."

"What, Martin?"

He couldn't work up the courage to decline the invitation. She was already in a good mood. What was the point of spoiling it now? "Um, I found a sitter for James."

After thinking about it for several days, they had both decided that it would be best to leave James with a babysitter rather than bring him with to the party.

"Oh, good."

"And I need to be at the station by half seven to catch the eight o'clock train."

"That's right." Her smile faded as she remembered that he'd be absent for the weekend. "I almost forgot. That's fine, we'll just make sure to leave the party by six-thirty." She looked at her silver wristwatch. "That gives us a few hours to enjoy ourselves there."

Martin curled his lip, thinking the exact opposite. "Yes."

"You're going to change, aren't you?" Louisa asked, looking him up and down.

He furrowed his brow. "Yes, of course."

"Good. I'll go first then, shall I?"

Her coy smile made the blood rush to his cheeks. She sashayed past him towards the stairs, his gaze following the swing of her hips. Martin swallowed hard as he loosened the knot of his tie, feeling constricted.

James's giggles eventually pulled Martin's attention away from Louisa. He lifted the toddler up and placed him in his playpen, along with his toys. Undoing the knot, he slipped his tie from around his neck and followed after Louisa, taking the stairs two at a time.

"What are you doing?" Louisa grinned as she felt Martin come up behind her in the bathroom, sweeping her hair off to the side.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," he replied, leaving a warm trail of kisses down the side of her neck.

She closed her eyes, giggling as his nose tickled the underside of her ear. "Martin, we can't leave James downstairs by himself."

He glanced up at their reflection in the mirror. "He's in his playpen."

She twisted around in his embrace to look at him, beginning to work on the buttons of his white shirt. "I didn't think you'd be this eager?"

He shook himself free of his suit jacket. "I'll be away from you all weekend. And you started it, by the way."

Her grin grew wider. "I might have. I'm going to miss you."

"Will you, Mrs. Ellingham?"

Louisa couldn't contain her laughter at the rarity of her husband's playful and teasing mood. It was better that they head to the engagement party in good spirits, knowing Penhale and the rest of the Portwenn locals were sure to get on his nerves. "Of course I will," she said, unbuttoning her printed blouse. She tapped the face of her watch when he failed to move any further. "I believe we're on a time schedule, Dr. Ellingham."

"Yes. Right." Ridding himself with the rest of his clothing, Martin reached into the shower and started the hot water then pulled Louisa back to him. Arms wrapping around one another, they embraced in a deep, languid kiss.

. . .

After leaving James with one of the mums from his nursery school, Martin and Louisa were able to arrive at the farm early, as planned. Entering the house that was once occupied by his late aunt, Martin surveyed the few guests that were already present. Al and Morwenna were huddled close together in a corner of the sitting room, talking quietly. They turned to face him and lifted their drinks glasses in greeting.

"Glad you could make it, Doc," Al said.

Martin nodded. "Yes."

"I'm pretty sure Ruth's out back with Bert," Morwenna informed him.

"Right. Thank you."

"Do you want something?" Louisa asked Martin as they walked to the kitchen.

"Just water," he replied, ducking under the colourful streamers and tinsel that lined the doorway.

Penhale, along with Bert and Ruth, were huddled in the centre of the kitchen when Martin and Louisa entered.

"Doc, Louisa, you made it!" Penhale exclaimed, rushing over and clapping a hand on Martin's shoulder.

"It took some persuading," Louisa said, taking hold of her husband's arm.

Martin looked down at her, his brow furrowed. "No it didn't. You said we were obligated to go. I thought you'd be angry if I declined."

Louisa lightly smacked the back of her hand against his chest, letting out a nervous laugh as the others exchanged glances. "You know, Martin. Always joking."

Penhale chuckled. "I'm glad you're here anyways, Doc. I have something important to ask but I'll get to that during the toasts. So don't go away." He grinned then took a large swig from his bottle of beer before walking past Martin and Louisa, out to the sitting room to greet more of his guests.

"Where's Janice?" Louisa asked, glancing around the kitchen.

"She's not here yet," Bert answered. "I'm guessing my directions weren't as straightforward as I thought."

"Are you saying you sent that poor girl to the wrong place?" Ruth questioned.

Bert shrugged his shoulders. "I told her 'The Farm'. I didn't realise she'd never been here before."

"Honestly," Ruth continued. "Someone ought to go and find her. She's probably gallivanting around, stopping at every farm from here to Bristol."

"I'll tell Morwenna to phone the girl, then," Bert said, waddling off to the sitting room, a glass of his homemade whiskey in hand.

Martin eyed the portly man as he shuffled past, taking note of his clumsy gait. He reached over for the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter and took a long sniff of its contents. "Do you know how much alcohol is in this?" he asked Ruth.

Ruth held her hands up. "I have no idea, Martin. I'm not involved in the production of it, that's all Bert."

"Hmm. If his distillery skills are anything like his plumbing skills I suspect we'll be picking Bert off the floor any minute now."

Ruth tried to hide her smirk behind the glass of wine in her hands.

"It's times like this where I really wish I wasn't pregnant," Louisa said, eyeing the bottle of white wine that was sitting unguarded on the counter.

Martin furrowed his brow. "Why?"

Louisa rolled her eyes. "Because, Martin, I could really use a glass of wine right now." She let out a wistful sigh then gave his arm a gentle pat. "I'm going to go mingle."

Martin scrunched up his nose, finding the idea of "mingling" unappealing and ghastly. He poured himself a tall glass of water instead, not minding if he remained in the kitchen for the rest of the party.

"Oi, Doc!" came the call of the accident prone fisherman, Chippy Miller. "Can I get one of those whiskeys there? Neat." He was pointing to the bottle of Bert's homemade whiskey.

Martin curled his lip. The fisherman certainly did not need any alcohol, nor did any of the other guests for that matter. Perhaps if he watered it down? "Right. I'll just be a moment." Picking up a clean, short crystal glass, he poured a generous amount of the alcohol, but when Chippy glanced away, added just as much water to dilute it. "Here you are, Mr. Miller."

Chippy held up his drink as if toasting the doctor. "Thanks, Doc. There'll be plenty more where this came from." Then he took a large swallow, licking his lips to savor the taste. "Interesting flavor. Bert's on to something here."

Ruth smiled as the fisherman walked away. "Well I'll leave you to it, then. You seem to be in control of things."

Martin let out a grunt, examining the rest of Penhale's alcohol supply.

About an hour later, (Janice had finally made it after Al picked her up at a dairy farm near Delabole) Louisa returned to the kitchen, wondering why her husband seemed to be lingering there. "Martin, what are you doing?"

He looked up from the cocktail he was making. "I'm managing these idiots' alcohol consumption."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. Did you see Bert earlier? He looked as if he were ready to fall over."

"Well come out and join everybody else. I think you can put your concerns on hold for a little while."

"Louisa, I have nothing in common with these people. Why would I want to _mingle_ with them?"

Louisa crossed her arms. "The day you married me, Martin Ellingham, you became a part of this village. I would like to think everybody else sees it that way too." She looked at her watch. "Anyway, we don't have to be here for much longer until we need to collect James and get you to the station."

Martin let out a deep sigh as he wiped his hands on a towel. "If it means that much to you."

Louisa kissed his cheek then took hold of his arm. "It does . . . and thank you." He mumbled something she couldn't quite decipher as they moved towards the front of the house.

The gathering for Janice and Penhale's party had grown significantly since they first arrived. Martin recognised many of his patients and their spouses. Al and Morwenna were still inseparable, hands entwined as they listened to Penhale rattle off all the things he loved about Janice. Turning slightly, he noticed his aunt looking rather solemn, staring off into the crowd of people gathered around the policeman with the microphone. He wondered if he should ask her about it, but then again, he wasn't one to pry into other people's business. Perhaps when he returned from his trip he might suggest they have lunch together?

He felt Louisa tug on the sleeve of his suit and he glanced down at her. She was nodding towards Penhale, who was shuffling a stack of white notecards in preparation for his speech. If it was anything like the best man speech he made at his and Louisa's wedding, this was bound to be excruciating, let alone embarrassing.

"I'd like to say a few words," Penhale began, clearing his throat. "Well, more than a few, actually." He chuckled. "I just wanted to express how thankful I am for all of you that came." He stopped to let the applause die down. "But I'm most grateful for the friends I've made here in Portwenn. After watching the Doc and Louisa tie the knot last year, I never expected I'd find someone like Janice." He took her hand and they smiled at each other. "I only hope I'm as happy as you are, Doc." Then he raised his beer bottle in a toast.

"Oh, God," Martin grumbled, his lip curling in disgust.

"It would mean even more to me if he was my best man." Penhale looked right at Martin. "So how 'bout it, Doc?"

All eyes turned to face the intimidating doctor. Martin remained motionless beside Louisa. He gripped his water glass tightly, fearing that he might drop it. He felt his wife wiggling her elbow into his side, persuading him to say 'yes'. He mumbled another "Oh, God" before announcing, "Alright, then."

A chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd, followed by numerous toasts of "To the Doc!" "To Martin!" and "Dr. Ellingham!" blended together amongst the many country accents.

At the front of the room, Penhale was smiling so broadly Martin thought the man was on the verge of tears. Al must have been relieved, for he was clapping with such an enthusiasm that Martin was sure he was going to regret his decision in accepting to be PC Penhale's best man. But there was one advantage out of it: his wife was happy.

"Thank you, Martin," Louisa whispered, leaning up on her toes.

She kissed his cheek and Martin felt his face turn red. "It's nothing," he said, trying to feign his embarrassment.

"I know I told you to accept, but hearing you agree to do it made me even more proud."

"Louisa . . ."

She picked at an imaginary piece of lint from the cuff of his grey suit. "I mean it, Martin. I'm so very proud of you. I know you'll make a wonderful best man."

"That remains to be seen."

Louisa chuckled. "You're my best man. That, I know for sure."

Martin glanced down at his watch, seeing that it was nearly time for them to leave. "We should think about heading out soon."

"Oh, Dr. Ellingham," came the shrill voice of Mrs. Tishell. "What a wonderful friend you are to accept such an honourable request."

Martin and Louisa turned to face the pharmacist and her husband, both wishing they should have made their escape when they could.

"Mm," Martin grunted. "Yes."

"Quite a speech, eh, Doc?" Clive said, nodding towards Penhale, who was engrossed in conversation with another guest.

"Yes."

"I don't believe I've seen PC Penhale so emotional," Mrs. Tishell remarked.

"Must have been all those refreshments," Louisa said, laughing lightly.

Mrs. Tishell narrowed her eyes at Louisa. "Apparently so. And it seems that some of us haven't had any _refreshments_ at all." She smiled.

Louisa matched Mrs. Tishell's innocence, hoping she hadn't figured out her and Martin's secret. "Sadly I can't drink, Mrs. Tishell. I'm driving Martin to Bodmin Station tonight."

"Really?" the pharmacist drawled. "Is that so?" She turned to face Martin. "Off to a medical conference then, Dr. Ellingham."

"Sal," Clive interrupted, "we don't need to be bothering the Doc about personal matters."

Mrs. Tishell rolled her eyes at her husband. "We're both medical professionals, Clive. It's only fair that we exchange details."

Martin cleared his throat. "It's really nothing to bother you with, Mrs. Tishell," he said. "I'm expecting it to be quite dull."

The pharmacist reached out and tapped Martin's speckled blue tie. "Well the moment you get back you must let me know how it went. We can have tea and biscuits . . . perhaps lunch?"

Once again, Louisa narrowed her eyes at the woman, irritated by her constant flirting. "We'll have to see." She took hold of her husband's hand. "He has a busy schedule ahead of him next week, don't you, sweetheart?" Louisa tipped her head back and smiled sweetly, hoping he'd pick up her hint.

Martin looked down at his wife, confused and rather startled by her use of an endearment. "Um, y-yes," he stuttered, still unsure of the present situation. He most certainly did not want to have tea and biscuits with Mrs. Tishell, let alone lunch. He cleared his throat, now finally realising what his wife was getting at. "Louisa's right. I'll most likely be busy catching up on work once I return."

Mrs. Tishell frowned, shaking her head. "Aww, pity. A doctor's work is never finished, though, is it?"

Martin felt his fingers twitching against the palm of Louisa's hand. If only they could leave. "No."

"I better go say goodnight to Penhale and Janice," Louisa said. "Martin, why don't you start the car? I'll just be a minute."

"Of course, darling," he replied, enjoying the slight raise of her eyebrows from his own use of an endearment. Two could play at that game, he thought. Louisa's cheeks turned red and he watched her slip away, then turned to face the Tishells. "Well, um, goodnight."

"Night, Doc," Clive said, reaching out to shake the doctor's hand. "Great seeing you."

"Yes, goodnight, Dr. Ellingham," Mrs. Tishell added. "It's always a _pleasure_ to see you." She gave him one of her coquettish smiles and a wink. "Safe travels."

"Right. Thank you." Martin was about to leave but Penhale's voice stopped him.

"Doc, wait!" the policeman cried, rushing forward and coming to a stop in front of Martin, Louisa following closely behind. "Thanks again for coming. Janice and I really appreciate it. Louisa told me you'll be out of town this weekend? Sounds fun. I could fancy a holiday myself-"

"What is it, Penhale?" Martin snapped, feeling annoyed.

"What I was going to say was that I thought I could stop by the surgery sometime next week so we could plan all of the best man, slash wedding, things I'm going to need you to sort out."

Martin shook his head. "Right. Whatever. Schedule an appointment with Morwenna Monday morning, then."

Penhale grinned. "You got it, Doc." He clapped Martin a little too hard across the shoulder, being slightly tipsy and a bit overcome with happiness.

"Idiot," Martin muttered to himself as the constable practically ran back to his post in the sitting room, suspecting the high amount of alcohol the man had consumed.

"Shall we?" Louisa said, taking hold of his arm.

Martin couldn't have said it any better himself. "Yes."

Louisa waved to the Tishells as she and Martin left the farmhouse. But before they could head out, Ruth ambled up behind them.

"I just wanted to wish you well, Martin, on your travels," she said.

"It's only a weekend, but thank you." Catching him off guard, Ruth stepped forward and hugged him. Eventually, Martin wrapped his arms around his thin aunt, being careful not to squeeze her.

"Good luck," she whispered.

He nodded, stepping out of her embrace. Ducking inside the car, Martin started the ignition while Louisa phoned the mum who was babysitting, letting her know that they were on their way.

. . .

Arriving at Bodmin Parkway Railway Station a little after half-seven, still sitting in the Lexus, Martin turned to face Louisa. "Um, are you sure you'll be all right while I'm away?" he asked.

Louisa nodded. "Yes. I've been away from you before for much longer, you know," she said with a light laugh, remembering her trip to Spain. "But this is entirely different. We're much closer now than we were then."

Martin looked down at his hands, hating to be reminded of that period of their lives. "Right."

Louisa reached out for his hand and he glanced up at her. "Know that I'm happy, Martin. We've both made some changes and I think it's been worth it, don't you . . . darling?"

She smiled and Martin couldn't help but grin as well, thinking back to their game of endearments at the party. "Yes."

"Good. Now kiss me goodbye before I embarrass us both on the platform."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Martin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Louisa's. He sighed into her mouth as he felt her hands move up to his cheeks, her fingers weaving through his hair. He deepened their kiss, not wanting to part from her just yet. James remained silent in the backseat, swinging his feet, content in his car seat.

Louisa pulled away, letting her hands settle on her husband's shoulders, their foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily. "I'll miss you," she said.

"I know. I'll miss you, too."

She glanced at the digital clock on the touch-screen feature of the car. "You better go or you'll miss your train."

Letting out a grunt of reluctance, Martin leaned back and opened his door. He handed Louisa his keys then ducked out of the vehicle. After pulling his small suitcase from the boot, he followed Louisa and James to the entrance.

"Don't have too much fun," Louisa smiled as they came to a stop on the platform. She shifted a sleepy James to her other hip.

A slight grin formed at the corner of his mouth. "I won't." He reached over and pulled James into his arms, hoisting him up for a proper hug goodbye. "Be good for your mother, James," Martin said, closing his eyes at the feel of his son's arms curling around his neck. Pulling the toddler back, he touched the fingers of his right hand to James's cheek, relishing its softness.

After taking James back from him, Louisa wrapped herself around her husband one more time. Though it was dark out, the overhead lamps illuminated the platform in a soft glow, capturing their embrace in an entwined shadow. Martin appeared to be less self-conscious of public displays of affection as he wound both arms around his wife and son, burying his nose in the familiar softness of her hair.

"I know it's only a weekend," Louisa said. "But it feels like you'll be gone for weeks."

"Try not to have too much fun while I'm away."

Louisa laughed. He really was becoming good with jokes. "James and I will come up with something." She sighed, savoring the feel of being in his arms. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Martin whispered into her ear.

Louisa squeezed him tight, trying not to cry. She pressed a fierce kiss to his cheek then pulled away. "We'll see you Sunday morning, bright and early." She looked down at James.

Martin brushed his hand over his son's head. "Take care of yourself, Louisa."

"Of course, Dr. Ellingham."

"Don't hesitate to call me."

"We'll be perfectly fine."

He gazed at her one last time before taking his suitcase and stepping onto the train.

"Wave to Daddy, James," Louisa said, turning James around so he could see his father.

On board the train, Martin found his seat next to the window, which happened to look out at the platform. Though he was several yards down from where Louisa and James were standing, he could still see them in the orange haze of the lights.

At precisely eight o'clock, the train lurched forward and Martin smiled when he saw Louisa and James waving at him. He held up his hand, continuing to watch them until they were no longer in view. Reaching inside his suit, Martin pulled out his phone, sending a message for Louisa to let him know that she and James returned home safely.

He watched the dark landscapes roll by, grateful that he had the seat next and across from him all to himself. About a half hour passed when he heard his phone buzz. Looking at the digital screen, he read Louisa's message: _At home. Get some sleep, Martin. I'll call you tomorrow_.

Martin typed back: _Good. Tell James goodnight for me_. He received a heart in reply.

Feeling content, he turned off his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. He laced his fingers together in his lap and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, letting the motion of the train put him to sleep.


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: Ahh, I know it's been forever since my last update, you guys. I've had a busy and crazy start to 2019 and April is going to be just as hectic for me as my final semester winds to an end. I've had terrible writer's block with this story that I even succumbed to starting a new story for another British fandom (I'll let you guys guess which one). But I've so enjoyed writing this story that I'm partly saddened yet somewhat relieved that it is nearing its end. I'm estimating no more than ten chapters left, it's just a matter of finding time to fill in the details. But now that I have a new chapter written I'm confident the rest will follow much easier. Now that we're all caught up, I hope you enjoy this one!**

Chapter Forty-five

The following morning, Louisa refused to get out of bed. Looking at her alarm clock, which read just past half-eight, she rolled over onto her other side to face the empty spot next to her. It had taken her a while to get to sleep the previous night. She was used to snuggling against Martin, but since he was away for the weekend their room felt cold and bare without him.

She kept an ear out for James though, who like his father, had the tendency to wake up at the crack of dawn every morning. Since his transition to a toddler bed, James enjoyed the freedom of getting up on his own, usually running across the hall to wake his parents. Martin and Louisa kept their bedroom door cracked open in case there was an emergency, but neither seemed to mind that their son sometimes crawled into bed with them.

Louisa started to drift off to sleep again, imagining her son curled up next to her, but that familiar queasiness she'd grown used to over the past month jolted her awake. She scrambled out of bed and rushed for the bathroom, not caring that the door was left open.

"Mum-mee."

Louisa was still hunched over the toilet, one hand holding her hair out of the way while the other clutched her rumbling stomach. She turned at the soft voice of her son, who sounded rather hesitant. James stood in the doorway, clad in a pair of blue and green pajamas with cartoon animals printed on them. He was clutching his treasured purple toy dinosaur, his light hair slightly tousled on one side. To Louisa he looked just like Martin with his confidant yet rigid posture and that slight questioning tilt of the head that captured his youthful innocence.

Louisa opened her mouth to speak, but the nausea hit her once again and she turned back to the toilet.

"Mum-mee," James whimpered, his eyes filling with tears at the odd noises his mother was making.

When she was sure it was finally over, Louisa wiped her mouth with one of the hand towels hanging by the sink. The sight of her trembling son nearly put her in tears. She held her arms out and he rushed forward, snuggling into her embrace. "It's all right, James," she whispered next to his ear. "Mummy's all right. Shh." She combed her fingers through his hair, rubbing her other hand up and down his back in her attempt to soothe him. "Shall we go have some breakfast?"

James pulled away from his mother and nodded. Louisa flushed the toilet then picked him up and left the bathroom, heading for the stairs.

Since Martin wasn't there to strictly preside over her diet, Louisa opted for scrambled eggs instead of her usual poached and a hearty side of bacon, which she had hidden in the back of the fridge. She let James stand on one of the kitchen chairs to help, showing him how to whisk the eggs.

"Don't tell Daddy that we cooked and ate breakfast in our pajamas, James," Louisa said as she helped her son fold over the eggs in the frying pan, imagining the scowl on her husband's face.

"Da-ee?" James questioned, turning to look at his mother.

"Yes. It'll be our little secret." She placed a finger against her lips and smiled, causing the toddler to giggle.

Once the sizzling bacon was removed from the stove, the two sat down for breakfast, Louisa looking over her work schedule for the coming week and James picking at his eggs. Without the gurgling and sputtering of Martin's espresso machine (Louisa didn't dare another attempt at preparing one for herself in fear that she'd break it again), the house was eerily quiet.

"What should we do today, James?" Louisa asked, looking across the table at him.

James twisted in his high chair, finding that there was no longer room for him to move about anymore.

"I think it's supposed to be rather warm out this afternoon," Louisa was saying, mostly to herself rather than James. "Perhaps we could head down to the beach—maybe go swimming?" Unsure if he understood her or not, Louisa smiled as her son looked up at her, a grin spreading across his lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Swimming?"

"Swim?" James questioned, testing out the word.

"That's right. Swimming. Perhaps this summer we could enroll you in lessons at the leisure centre?"

Louisa bit her lip, wondering if she was thinking too far ahead of herself. By the time the summer holidays arrived she'd be five months pregnant, nearing the end of her second trimester. By then she was sure Martin would be excessively overprotective, not allowing her out of his sight for a minute. A lazy smile appeared at the thought but then quickly vanished as she imagined being glued to his side for the duration of her pregnancy. As much as she loved him, it was imperative that she be allowed time to herself every now and again, for both their sakes.

Later that morning, the weather of mid-March proved to be stubborn for the area of Portwenn. The sun Louisa was relying on soon faded away to gray clouds and steady sheets of rain. She and James decided to settle themselves in the living room for the time being, choosing to wait and see if the weather cooperated by late afternoon.

While Louisa was flipping through details of the summer fête the school would be putting on just before the holidays, she kept glancing over at her phone, hoping for a message or a call from Martin. But she hadn't spoken with him since they parted at the train station nearly twelve hours ago. She suspected he probably had a busy morning and wouldn't have the time to phone her until the evening. It didn't bother her, except that he'd been very vague about his trip in the first place. In the weeks before, he never once mentioned a medical conference or seminar that he'd be attending. But being married to a doctor, Louisa came to realise, and eventually understood, that her husband's work often came with many surprises and short-notices. Had he decided to go back into vascular surgery, time with family would certainly be nonexistent. But she was glad with the decision he'd made, choosing to stay with her and their son in Portwenn rather than for the sake of his career in London.

Louisa looked over at James. He was scribbling away on a sheet of paper with a yellow crayon. "What are you drawing over there, James?"

At the sound of his name, the toddler looked up at Louisa, unsure of what she was asking him. Instead, he replaced the yellow crayon he was using with a purple one and continued drawing.

"I see," she said, nodding her head. "It's a surprise."

James continued drawing for a few minutes until he finally stopped. He held out his finished creation with gusto, waving it about until he received his mother's attention.

"Is it for me, James?" Louisa asked, setting aside the stack of papers she had balancing on her lap.

"Da-ee," he said, still waving the paper back and forth.

"You drew it for Daddy?" When the toddler nodded, Louisa's smile faltered slightly. Lately, she had begun to notice James's attachment to his father. Not that she was jealous of Martin; she found it rather sweet that her young son looked up to his father. But she did wonder whether James preferred Martin's company over hers.

Since becoming a mother, the topic of child psychology and development rather interested her. And though she knew very little on the subject, aside from what she'd read in the American child development books she had purchased just after James was born (of which she was certain Martin disapproved of), she became curious the more she watched their son grow and develop as a toddler. _Perhaps Ruth could be insightful_ , she wondered, although she began to second guess herself based on the woman's specialty in criminal psychology. But she kept the idea at the back of her mind just in case.

"Daddy isn't here, sweetheart," Louisa said as she pulled James up onto her lap, his drawing still clutched in his right hand. "He'll be back tomorrow and then you can give it to him." The toddler didn't seem to understand her at first, but he shoved the piece of paper at her anyway. Louisa turned it around to inspect it. He'd drawn several circles and rings in varying colors, along with a slanted square, of which she assumed he'd attempted to depict as a house or building. "It's lovely," she continued, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "I'm sure Daddy will love it." Shifting her position on the sofa, Louisa grabbed a dark blue crayon from the pile on the coffee table and helped James sign his name at the bottom right corner of the paper.

When James's attention turned to his toys, Louisa smoothed out his drawing and set it aside on the table. She watched him play for a few minutes before turning back to her work, thinking how blessed she was to have such a wonderful family. Even though it wasn't midday yet, Louisa was already looking forward to her nightly phone call with Martin.

. . .

As she had hoped, the rain did move its course later that afternoon. Louisa even checked the radar on her phone, making sure it would be worth their while to venture outside for a few hours before Mother Nature changed her mind.

Suspecting that the temperature of the sea might be a little less tolerable in fifteen degrees Celsius weather, Louisa dressed James in a water-friendly athletic shirt in addition to his swimming trunks. At the bottom of the stairs she helped him slip on his sandals then took hold of his hand before leaving the house.

Now that James could properly walk on his own, it made life a little bit easier for Louisa not to have to struggle with a cumbersome pushchair, especially on the beach.

Reclining back on the blanket she had laid out on the sand, Louisa watched as James splashed around at the water's edge. Overhead, gulls dipped down towards the water while some fled, flapping up into the sky. The mass of fishing boats that were scattered about Portwenn's harbour bobbed about with the tide. Whenever a wave crashed against the beach, covering his feet, James would jump and squeal in delight at the feel of the cool seawater against his skin. Then he'd turn around to face his mother, who smiled and waved back at him.

"Be careful!" she'd shout, once he turned his back to her.

Louisa continued watching him as she pulled on her blue cardigan, feeling chilled from the slight breeze. She'd put on one of her printed summer dresses, not wanting her jeans to get ruined and dirty from the sand. Glancing down at her middle, her pregnancy was now a bit more obvious with the close fit of her dress around the waist. As an afterthought she smoothed a hand over the slight hill of her abdomen, anxious yet slightly nervous to meet the newest member of the Ellingham family.

"Louisa?"

Turning at the sound of her name, Louisa turned her gaze away from James, holding a hand up over her eyes as she looked into the sun. It took her a moment to recognise her colleague and fellow teacher, Elliot Keane. He was on one of his afternoon runs it seemed, heading straight towards her. "Hello, Elliot," she said, sitting up and tucking her legs underneath her.

He came to a stop in front of her blanket, tapping the digital screen of his athletic watch and pulling out his earbuds. "Enjoying the weekend?" he asked, grabbing his left leg and pulling it back to stretch out the muscles of his thigh.

Louisa quickly glanced over at James, making sure he was still in her line of sight. "Yes. We're having a wonderful time." She gestured with a nod of her head towards James and Elliot turned around.

He chuckled. "How adorable. Though they don't stay like that for long, do they?"

"No," she laughed, "they don't. I wish they did though."

Elliot looked around. "Is Martin—er, Dr. Ellingham, working today?"

Louisa shook her head. "No, he's out of town for some conference this weekend. In Exeter, I think he said."

"May I?" Elliot asked, gesturing at the blanket.

Louisa bit down on her lip then shifted over a bit. "Sure, why not?"

Elliot plopped down beside her and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Have you decided about the half marathon later this summer? Sorry, but you mentioned Exeter and it just sort of popped back into my head."

Originally, Louisa was planning on signing up, but now with her pregnancy it was sure to be put on hold until the following year. "I planned on it, yes, but something's come up," she said, now hesitant about telling him that she was expecting. But she felt that Elliot could keep her secret quiet now that their friendship had grown. "I'm pregnant—just found out a couple of weeks ago actually."

Elliot's eyebrows shot up at the news. "Really?" He smiled. "Congratulations. I'd never have guessed it," he said, glancing down at her middle.

Noticing where his gaze landed, Louisa placed a protective hand over her abdomen. "I'm not quite showing yet—it's still early."

"So you'll be expecting this summer, then?"

"Late October."

"Well I'm sure Dr. Ellingham has you wrapped in feathers."

Louisa laughed. "Almost, but not quite. He's been . . . he's been very attentive lately, to put it mildly, but so wonderful about it. We're both excited, though slightly nervous."

He reached down and touched her hand then just as quickly, retracted it. "You'll be marvelous. You've already done well with your first."

Once again, Louisa looked over at James. "I'd like to think so . . ."

Elliot noticed the slight shift in her expression. "I don't have kids myself. But I've come to realise that nobody's a perfect parent, Louisa."

She turned to look at him, and though it felt extremely awkward to talk about such personal matters with a colleague, Louisa felt that he was right. She'd experienced it with her own parents, as well as her and Martin's struggle to get along after the birth of their son. They were still learning the art of parenting, and through the difficulties of it, felt that their love and affection for James only grew, along with their marriage.

"I think you may be right," she said, quickly squeezing his hand.

With a grunt, Elliot pulled himself up to his feet and began stretching his legs again. "Don't be hard on yourself . . . or Martin. I can tell how hard he tries to be perfect like you, in regards to James."

"That's kind of you to say, Elliot. And before you go, would you mind keeping the pregnancy just to yourself for a while? Other than you and our immediate family, no one else knows, and Martin and I would like to savour it for a while, just the two of us."

"Of course. My lips are sealed."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you on Monday."

"Bye, Elliot." Louisa waved as he put his earbuds back in and started off down the beach again, chuckling at the sand that was still stuck to the back of his lower legs. "James!" she called out, thinking he'd been in the water long enough. Her little boy looked up from where he was digging in the wet sand with his spade. She held out his beach towel and he came rushing towards her. He laughed when Louisa wrapped the towel around him, slightly tickling him as she began drying him off.

On their walk back Louisa kept a firm grip on James's hand. When he was excited he had a tendency to want to run off on his own, more so now that he became an expert at walking. As they scaled Roscarrock Hill to the surgery, Louisa swung their arms back and forth, which felt a bit awkward considering James's height. But he giggled endlessly, finding the squishing noises his wet sandals made while walking to be funny.

With her free hand Louisa adjusted the large tote bag slung over her shoulder that contained the blanket and James's beach essentials. They just passed the building where Bert's restaurant used to be when she felt the muscles in her lower back tighten, almost painfully so that she had to stop. James looked up at her curiously, wondering why they stopped.

For a brief moment Louisa became alarmed, but just as quickly as the tightening sensation occurred, it had passed. Letting go of her son's hand, she rubbed the afflicted area, thinking that she must have reclined too long in the same position to put a slight strain on her lower back. But she did remember the constant back aches with her first pregnancy, though they hadn't occurred until much later when the added weight sometimes became too much to bear, especially when walking.

"C'mon, James," she said, letting out a deep breath and retaking his hand. They walked the rest of the way to the small cottage without difficulty. As soon as James went down for his afternoon nap, Louisa decided a hot bath would be nice to relax and soothe the muscles she knew would be aching the following morning. She dreaded telling Martin later when they would speak over the phone, knowing how concerned he was going to be over something that really wasn't a big deal. She rolled her eyes just thinking about it as she helped James take off his swimwear in the upstairs bathroom.

Later that same evening, after a simple and quiet dinner, Louisa read to James from one of his children's books before putting him to bed. As most toddlers were, he was being stubborn, not wanting to go to sleep, even though he went down earlier without a problem for his afternoon nap.

"Please, James," Louisa begged, as she tried once again to pull the bedsheets over him.

For the third time, James kicked them away, shouting "No!" repeatedly.

"Please, James. Mummy's tired."

He finally stopped squirming around. "Mum-mee?" He often liked to repeat the words he heard others use, most notably his parents' names.

"Yes, Mummy wants to go to sleep. Why can't you?" When he didn't answer her, Louisa scooped him up into her arms. "Alright then, you can come sleep with me. Will that be better?"

The toddler rubbed his eyes with his right fist, his toy dinosaur clutched in his other hand.

With James curled by her side in bed, Louisa reached for her phone, eager to hear her husband's voice.

"Louisa," she heard him say through the phone once he picked up, thinking he sounded rather tired.

"You sound tired," she responded. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes."

"Martin . . ."

He sighed. "I'm fine, Louisa. I've just had a long day."

"Mmm. You know I miss you."

"I know." There was a moment of silence before he continued, "I miss you, too."

Louisa smiled, looking down at James, who shifted over onto Martin's side of the bed. "James is curled up on your side of the bed."

"James is in our bed?"

Louisa reached over and combed her fingers through their son's light hair. He stirred slightly but fell back to sleep, clutching his toy dinosaur. "He didn't want to sleep in his room. I think he misses you as well."

"I highly doubt that James has the cognitive capacity to realise he misses me."

"Mar-tin." She let out an exasperated breath. "There's only so many times you can use that excuse."

"Louisa, he's not even two years old yet—"

"Is it that hard to believe your son possibly misses you?" She heard him sigh through the phone. "Well anyway, James and I went to the beach today. He had a wonderful time." She looked over at him and smiled. He was sleeping peacefully against his father's pillow.

"I see." He paused for a minute. "And what about you? Did you go swimming?"

"No. Ooh . . ." Louisa had shifted onto her side, aggravating the muscles of her lower back. "I wanted James to enjoy himself."

"Are you all right?" He didn't receive a reply, so he asked again, "Louisa? Is everything all right?"

She sighed into the phone. "Yes, Martin. I think I may have strained a muscle in my lower back—it's nothing."

"Louisa, that's not nothing," he countered.

She rolled her eyes. "I just spent too long in the same position while sitting on the beach, that's all."

"Louisa—"

"Martin, I'm all right—I promise. I took a hot bath after we got home . . . and really I'm feeling much better. I just moved awkwardly and the pain caught me by surprise."

"If you're sure."

She smiled at his concern. "Martin, I'm not going to break. You can examine me yourself when you come home tomorrow if it makes you feel better?"

"It would, actually."

"Alright, then. I'll put my name down for tomorrow afternoon."

"Louisa, you don't have to make an appoint—oh, I see. You were . . ."

"Yes, Martin, I was joking."

"I see."

Again, Louisa rolled her eyes. _Really_ , she thought, _with the many number of times he's used that phrase. I ought to get him a t-shirt with the words printed across the front. Or perhaps a coffee mug?_ She chuckled at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Martin asked.

Louisa continued laughing, imagining her husband's perplexed expression. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking of something, that's all."

"Hmm, I see."

She had to bite her lip from letting out another laugh. "I'm sorry, Martin."

"For what?"

"Nothing. I just . . . I wish you were here."

"Darling," he began to say, but then stuttered over himself, "I-I mean . . ."

"No, don't apologise, Martin. I like it when you call me that."

"Really? It sounds so foreign to me."

Louisa softened her voice. "No, it's lovely. And I'm sure the more you say it the more natural it'll sound."

"I suppose."

"I really do wish you were here. I felt terribly lonely last night without you."

"Yes, I struggled with getting to sleep myself," he confessed.

Another smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "At least we both suffered."

"No, I mean, the patron in the room next to mine kept playing the most infuriating music. Plus the bedsheets were rather scratchy. I suspect they weren't properly cleaned."

Her smile widened. At least he was still the uptight doctor she knew so well. "Oh, Martin . . ."

"It's fine now. I gave them a piece of my mind."

Louisa could just picture the scene in her head. "I'm sure you did."

"Listen, Louisa . . ."

His voice had turned serious, a slight softness to it as he trailed off. "What is it?"

Martin sighed. "There's just some things we need to talk about when I return home."

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it right now, Louisa—"

Louisa furrowed her brow, her voice rising in pitch. "Martin, there's nothing wrong with you, is there?"

"No, it has nothing to do with me. Please, darling, I don't want you worrying about it."

She sighed deeply. "Alright. I'll just wait. You're coming home on the nine o'clock train tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. I should be at the station before eleven."

"Okay." They grew silent for a few moments. "Is it serious, Martin? If anything, at least tell me that."

"It's not serious, but it is something we need to discuss."

"Okay. Thank you for letting me know."

"I should let you get some sleep," Martin said. "I'm sure James wore you out, and what with your back . . ."

"Yes, I should."

"Goodnight, Louisa."

"Goodnight, Martin." Another moment of silence ensued before Louisa continued, "I love you—very much, you know."

"I know. And I love you, too," he replied. "Endlessly."

His words brought tears to her eyes, but Louisa held them back. "You're making me cry, Martin Ellingham, and not just because I'm pregnant."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"God," he grumbled out. "You make me say things I wouldn't normally say."

Louisa laughed, smiling through the tears she was trying to hold back. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes, I believe it is."

"Goodnight, Martin."

"Goodnight, Louisa."

His voice was so tender she could have sworn he was smiling. She ended the call then plugged in her phone. After switching off her bedside lamp, Louisa gingerly rolled over onto her left side. James hadn't moved from Martin's side of the bed and she shifted closer to him. She settled her head next to her son's, reaching up to brush her fingers through his hair. Whatever important news Martin had to relay no longer mattered. For the time being, just having James next to her gave her the comfort she needed.


End file.
